(THIS ARTICLE IS ONLY MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
There is almost something ominous about the silence of Insulindestraat. There are no people in the streets, no children in the local park with swings and slides. The windows are left; the doors to the street are closed. A local gallery that should have been open on Sundays is bolted and locked.
Insulindestraat 248 is written in white letters on a blue door. Below it is added a couple of phone numbers and a name: Chris Ripken. A year ago, this door would have been open on such a beautiful late summer day. . .
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