Times are strange right now.

Sitting at home, longing to play for people. Thinking, reading, writing, composing. Picking up my sticks most days, just to keep going, keep up with my technique.

My calendar is full until the end of the year and beyond, if I look at it, there are no rests. But reality is different, and no-one knows what will happen, and what will not.

I just played Moby Dick in Besançon, France last week. We had audience but they were not “real”. They were professionals. But still - they were people, and they were there. It was the first time I played for people in 2021. Being on stage felt at the same time extremely comfortable, relaxing, like being at home, and extraordinary, precious, special.

The upcoming months I might be playing Moby Dick a lot, in France and in Norway. OR I might just be home, reading, writing, thinking and composing. Who knows?