Hold on to your seats, its profound revelation time.
Now many of you think of Valhalla as vɑlˈhɑ lə. A hall full of brave warriors exchanging stories of guts and glory. A hall full of smokes from boars turning on spits, where the mead never runs dry.
Danes think of Valhalla as wɛlhel’e. I am sorry, but I can’t take seriously a place called wɛlhel’e. What is this? A meeting room full of accountants debating the finer points of double entry book keeping system? A studio space for sexually frustrated graphics designers deciding between tones of fuschia? A place where they try to reach consensus on the vision statement for their raiding party? Do they feast on Wienerbrod? Does the coffee never run dry?