See this guy? His name is Sondre. Sondre Lerche. He embodies what I look for in a man. From the place he was born, even, he exemplifies perfection in my eyes. Sondre Lerche has completely captured me. It's safe to say I'm as helpless as a tiny little fly in an web spun of delicate crooning and puppy-dog eyes. If I ever had the chance to meet him, I'm afraid of what would happen. In all honestly, I would probably crumple into a string puppet in his wake. My bones would turn to jelly, every muscle would lose it's will to hold me up. I might even faint! As far as saying something to him, I wouldn't even dream of it. I can't imagine what sorts of incoherent word-foam I would babble out in his presence. I mean, really though, look at him! He's an angel, any girl would be luck to have composure in front of him. It would be an absolute dream come true to see him play in Bergen, his hometown, to sing along and dance and gawk awkwardly at him. He just oozes sex appeal. He's also the only person that can describe the Norweigan language as being 'itchy' and pull it off without a hitch.
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