July 22th was and still is the most emotional job for me as a journalist. I remember the first post on Facebook that day, only minutes after the bomb exploded in Oslo, asking if there was an earth quake. I remember my fear when I saw the first pictures of government district and I remember the discussion with my editor-in-chief. I remember that we just planned my text about Oslo when I read the first tweets from Utøya: "Someone is shooting, many dead" / "Don't call people there, they are hiding in bushes". I remember that I was sad, desperate and exhausted that evening, when I came home about midnight. I asked Christian to turn off the radio next morning, because like everyone else I knew it wouldn't be ten dead persons like they said the first day. I remember they were talking about 91 this horrible next morning. I remember the blog entry of 18 year old Prableen Kaur that I translated for Weser-Kurier while I was crying. Norway always felt home for me. Those days more than ever. Norway is not the same. But I am still so impressed about how the act after July 22th. Impressed by Jens Stoltenbergs speach and emotions, impressed by the youth, impressed by the love they have shown, impressed by how they still discuss about not losing this traumatised generation. Norway, my love.
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