(I took this photo on Vigeland’s bridge)
My wife looked at the statue and said it reminded her of me.
“How,” I asked? “In his noble strength against his constraints? In his righteous fury in response to his captivity? In his perfect form against a perfect prison that can redistribute his force as he pushes, yet still he fights on?”
“No,” she said. “In that if he relaxed his grip, and stepped forward, he’d be free.”