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About Sandnes

Sandy’s hands told me stuff—cracked nails, shaky fingers. She signed “business slow” one rainy day—broke my heart, man! Prostitutes got this hustle, like paintin’ on a canvas nobody sees. “We all wear masks,” Toni’s dad says—damn right! Sandy’s mask? Red lipstick, torn fishnets—her happy little trees hidin’ pain. Fun fact—did ya know some old-timey prostitutes used sign language? Yup, secret codes for cops—sneaky, huh?

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So, I’m trudging down Bryggen, the old wharf. It’s beautiful, all those colorful wooden houses. But today? They looked like they were crying too. I’m like, “C’mon, even the buildings are sad?” I stop for coffee at a little café on Torgallmenningen. Best coffee ever, but the barista? Total grump. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just coffee, not rocket science.” He rolls his eyes. I mean, chill, man.

James Bergen Obituary February 25, 2025