Corina does not like to beg. Not because it is degrading, she does not care about what people in th

The tacos Thieves. Victims. Freeloaders. The nation spent the summer of 2012 to talk about the Roma. Plots journalist used it to eat, sleep, begging and living with them. This is the story of seven days in Oslo gutter. Text: Elida Hoeg / Photo: Eivind H. Natvig (This case was published in magazine Plot # 9, in August steel legs 2012. Since the streets are filled by Roma and last year's public discussion about these people's place in Norway is about to repeat itself, we put the matter in its entirety. steel legs A Plot classic to the delight of new readers!)
- Sunday 1st July 2012. The first meeting
It's dark under the bridge. Around 20 people are starting to prepare their beds with cardboard, steel legs blankets and sleeping bags. Here they will sleep tonight. There are high ceilings and it blows a bit. A man in his fifties has fallen asleep already talking in his sleep. Beside steel legs him is a battered accordion. Corina mentions a long skirt in denim fabric from the plastic bag. Four men sitting in a circle and play cards turns.
Corina steel legs lives with her husband steel legs at the entrance to the subway. Dimitrie Cantemir Stamata laughing and holding out his hand. He lacks four teeth, he is 24 years old. Corina is 19. The couple's youngest under Vaterland bridge. They have a mattress located across. Corina pulls out blankets from a black trash bag and put them on top of each other. Smoothing out wrinkles, finds a pillow.
Flesh? Meat? I follow. We go into a backyard in an alley. Corina looks over his shoulder and goes straight to the dustbins. Flesh? She bends over and grabs for something down the dustbin. Coming up with an empty bottle in his hand.
Corina runs almost. The legs go like drumsticks on asphalt inside the long, dark blue lace skirt. Gina, next door from the mattress beside follows steel legs heels, breathless. Her belly makes her heavier, she is six months pregnant. Every dustbin get through. On the streets and in every open backyard. Corina open dustbin lid, knows the bags, tearing them up. One after another. Know if there is anything left in a shampoo bottle, checking the pockets of a jacket thrown. Can not find anything, just coffee grounds, diapers and dirty napkins.
Corina puts lid gently again, looks around and goes. Gina follows. Opens door to a new backyard and delves into the dustbin. Coming up with a huge duvet with yellow covers. She put it in my arms. The smells faintly of urine.
11:50 p.m. We have found four bottles and t-shirt that says rock and roll on. It's time to go back. During Vaterland bridge sits Mircea Maracine Valentin, fourth man on the mattress. He has hair slicked back and squiggly tattoos down arms. Valentin drinking UHT milk and predict my hand.
As we shall put us go a floodlight in orange and lights of all to sleep under the bridge. An old woman dances while she eats a bread lime. A young boy droned a wrap around his leg, his knee is swollen. steel legs His mother ruffle his hair, he tryna when he played football in the park. Two women in the Thirties arguing about a plastic bag with a pair of shoes inside.
Head of a sleeping man adjoins my stomach and binds us together with the chain of people stretching twenty feet long under the bridge. Along concrete edge down to metro station is we lined up close together. Corina draws breath and take a tablet, aspacardin.
A hard water jet drones tarmac blaring inside the minds of people who are trying to sleep. A man in park dress washer ground with a long hose. He does not look at us, just wash the concrete floor with habitual movements. Water hose approaching, it is time to stand up.
Cantemir and Valentin will collect bottles. Corina and I'll beg. We parted on parliament. Corina find an empty coffee cup in a bin and give it to me. Although she pulls her own ragged paper cup from the sack. It is so far it stays together.
We sit opposite steel legs each other at the entrance to Parliament subway station. Corina crossing your legs and pull the hood over your head. People passing by. Some look at the empty cups. Otherwise flakes glances over our heads. Children have eyes too low over the ground to be able to watch over us, through us. They peeks curious, anxious.
Corina does not like to beg. Not because it is degrading, she does not care about what people in this country think about her. But because it's all about luck. When she collects bottles she can go a little faster, find new routes, dig deeper. When she begs, there are those who go by the decider. A lady with sunglasses and red leather steel legs handbag provides a cardboard box Corina with food.
Corina put the box in the bag without looking at it. She leans against the steel railing, looking steel legs down. It goes an hour, no