Away from the gluttonous consumption of the christmas dinner table and the awkward family engagements where an embrace always lasts that uncomfortable second too long, comes a barely-audible burrr from Oslo’s beating heart. It calls to you like a siren's song, a large flickering arrow lighting your exit; offering you a way out from the mundane conversation, the opulent display of hyperbolic consumerism and the tepid versions of the pseudo happiness that every christmas brings.