First thing I would think of when I hear the word hideaway would probably be our cabin in Frafjord. It's quiet, clean, cosy... and quite desolate. We don't know any of the approximately hundred people living there, it's located in a valley between to huuuuuge mountains and it's by the ocean. The very definition of peaceful and quiet. So isolated that the world seems like mere background-noise. A place to just be. But since it requires an approximately one and a half hour drive to get there, clearly I can't go there daily.
The next answer would probably be cinema. I love the feeling of a movie theater. The way every centimeter of it screams out promises of adventure and wonder. I love sitting there in the dark, noticing how emotions travel invincibly from the screen to the audience and then continue among the audience itself. The only hinder is the steep price required to gain a two-hour access card to this place of wonder.
In my case the words cinema and library are very closely related. In Stavanger they're situated in the same building. A library contains the entire world in miniature, and are therefore also considered as a wonderful place. It would be a perfect hideout if it weren't for the highly uncomfortable chairs and sofas and the fact that they're almost always occupied.
"In that case," you might say, "I know your answer's got to be your bedroom." And yes, it almost is. My room is truly tiny with a lot of books covering the walls. The only place one can sit down is on my bed. And in my bed, with my back against the wall, my right side hidden by a wardrobe, my left side covered by a gigantic window and my face gazing upon my book-shelves, I am almost as comfortable as I can ever get. The problem is that my walls are very thin, and I never feel as though I'm truly alone if one of my siblings are home.
Which leads me to only one possible conclusion: Our kitchen-table. It's wired, I know! Honestly, it's the very centre of the house. Surrounded by the kitchen, our living-room and the stairs to the second floor you have to work really hard not to walk past it more than twice in an hour. Still it's the place I feel like I can be truly left alone... Why? I don't know. A probable explanation is that it's never really a destination in itself, only something people have to pass by while transporting themselves to another place. It's almost a little free-corner of one times one and a half meter owned and used solely by me. I eat here, read good books, do some of my homework, write blog entries (such as this one) and watches movies av tv-series here. All alone. This is my place to be. To recharge. My perfect hideaway.
