ABSTRACT
I am standing outside Galleri MAP at 32 Tøyen Street, right across from the premises of Tøyen Catering. It is January and a quiet time in the city. A taxi drives by; water from the dirty, melting snow of last year runs through the gutter. I think of Bjørn Kristiansen and his stories about the taxi drivers who ate together between shifts, about ‘the guys in garbage’ and the children who played on the street. He spoke about a society that I have no experience of, an urban way of living nowhere to be found in the Oslo that I know. The gallery owner arrives on a bicycle, balancing a grocery bag dangling from the handlebars.
