4am

Letters, stories and photographs - by Thomas Moen.

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Went for a run in Stockholm this morning. Beautiful city!

Went for a run in Stockholm this morning. Beautiful city!

Making a time lapse of Oslo. Beautiful.

Making a time lapse of Oslo. Beautiful.

My girl ❤️

My girl ❤️

Now this water I like! Fresh 😍😎🏄

Now this water I like! Fresh 😍😎🏄

Enjoying the beautiful streets in old cities of Croatia with my girl.

Enjoying the beautiful streets in old cities of Croatia with my girl.

2 fantastic weeks with @mittnavnermini and @mariamoen are over. Thanks guys! ❤️ Now I’m ready for another weeks of good times. On my way to Croatia with my girl @ninagolizade. 😎🙏🏻

2 fantastic weeks with @mittnavnermini and @mariamoen are over. Thanks guys! ❤️ Now I’m ready for another weeks of good times. On my way to Croatia with my girl @ninagolizade. 😎🙏🏻

Another beautiful day. Loads of fun and memories created today. (at Hove Camping)

Another beautiful day. Loads of fun and memories created today. (at Hove Camping)

Loving the lazy days in the south. Here is my son and my little doggy - chillin in the grass. ☀️ (at Kolonihagen)

Loving the lazy days in the south. Here is my son and my little doggy - chillin in the grass. ☀️ (at Kolonihagen)

Last meeting and roundup of NYC trip. Now on to the airport and vacation with my son! 👊🏻😎 (at The Open Door Gastropub)

Last meeting and roundup of NYC trip. Now on to the airport and vacation with my son! 👊🏻😎 (at The Open Door Gastropub)

Life is what you make of it. There are no excuses. There are no rules. Want to travel? Go. Want change? Create it. Want to be happy? Be happy. Stop asking and start doing. You are the writer of your own story.

One last meet
As the cab pulled up to the plaza in front of the station, she realised that he was the first man who ever called her beautiful. For a couple of seconds she went back to that day, a long long time ago. The smell of his cologne, his...

One last meet

As the cab pulled up to the plaza in front of the station, she realised that he was the first man who ever called her beautiful. For a couple of seconds she went back to that day, a long long time ago. The smell of his cologne, his voice, eyes, smile - and all the feelings she felt that day rushed trough her like a wild river in early spring. She was about to meet her lost love. He was standing a few feet in front of here - for the first time in over 50 years.

They basically grew up together. She still remembered their first, “first kiss”. Just like the stories in the pocketbooks you would find at train stations, their love was intense, strong and ended all to fast. She left for college, and he pursued his passion for music.

Years passed by and they wrote each other every week or so the first couple of years, but as they both grew older - the letters stopped flowing. And slowly they started to forget the love they once shared. Their love, lost, hidden in shoeboxes.

They both found somebody else, got married and lived good lives. But as time takes it toll with all of us, their loved ones eventually passed away. By the time they both turned 70 they found themselves alone, lost and lonely.

One day a letter came for her. It was him. The first letter simply continued where they left off, he told her all about the life he had lived and the life he lived now.

The letters went back and forth for almost a year - their lost love for each other was slowly recovering. A lot of things, stories and relationships happens within 50 years - and they needed time to empty their hearts, process what they felt and get to know each other - one more time.

Eventually he decided it was time to meet. He dressed in his finest clothes. A pinstriped suit and his favorite hat. He bought a beautiful bouquet and went to the train station where they’d decided to meet.

A taxi stopped in front of him, and the door opened. He remembered the first time he called her beautiful - and for a couple of seconds he went back to that day, a long long time ago.

Then their eyes met, they laughed. Their second first kiss was shared. Lost love, lost no more.

Hav. Bølger. Varme solstråler på naken hud. Sand mellom tærne. Vind i håret. Mysende øyne. Smil. Tenner. Sommer.

Hav. Bølger. Varme solstråler på naken hud. Sand mellom tærne. Vind i håret. Mysende øyne. Smil. Tenner. Sommer.

Those 4am walks, when you don’t know where your going.

Those 4am walks, when you don’t know where your going.

Birds singing. Warm, but with a cool summer breeze. Together. Calm. Eyes open. Smile. Kiss. Saturday. Perfect.

Birds singing. Warm, but with a cool summer breeze. Together. Calm. Eyes open. Smile. Kiss. Saturday. Perfect.

This is Joe.
Joe get’s up at 5:30 every morning and walks to the grocery store to pick up milk, bread, butter, cheese and today’s newspapers.
Joe loves the sound of the city slowly waking around him.
He then walks up all 94 stairs to his apartment,...

This is Joe.

Joe get’s up at 5:30 every morning and walks to the grocery store to pick up milk, bread, butter, cheese and today’s newspapers.

Joe loves the sound of the city slowly waking around him.

He then walks up all 94 stairs to his apartment, unlocks the door, put’s his coat back on the hanger and set’s the table on his little porch - and smiles.

Joe has a beautiful smile.

He then put’s on the radio, walks into the bedroom and wakes his lovely wife by gently cuddling her hair, kissing her forehead and whispers - good morning beautiful.

Joe loves his wife.

He then get’s back on the porch and lights his cigarette, sighs and watches the skyline. His wife joins him and they eat breakfast, read newspapers and laugh.

Joe enjoys the little things in life, we should all be a bit more like Joe.