This young lady must be grinning down at the rock and roll king. 11-year-old Oslo native Angelica Jordan has captured the attention of viewers all around the world with her amazing talent, which is on display in this viral video.
Elvis Presley’s career peaked in the 1950s, and his influence lives on through a plethora of impersonators, particularly in Las Vegas. But until Angelica, no one has really managed to grasp his soul.
The enthusiasm in the audience is evident as Angelica enters the stage at Fredriksten Fortress and reveals she will be performing an Elvis song. She starts off with the difficult song “Now or Never,” which she manages with amazing maturity. Angelica’s performance precisely hits each note while remaining faithful to the original. Her voice sounds so much like Elvis that it’s incredible that someone so young could have such skill.
At the age of eight, Angelica launched her singing career by taking part in a talent show that attracted viewers from the UK to America. She attends the Oslo Waldorf School and the Oslo School of Music and Performing Arts to hone her skills, and she stays modest despite her notoriety. She is undoubtedly admired by her contemporaries, who see her as a formidable talent.
Even though Angelica achieved success early in life, her hard work and inherent skill made it well worth it. As she develops further and her voice becomes more mature, we look forward to seeing her play live again.
She inquired, “What’s the price for the eggs?” The elderly seller responded, “0.25 cents per egg
The old egg seller, his eyes weary and hands trembIing, continued to sell his eggs at a loss. Each day, he watched the sun rise over the same cracked pavement, hoping for a miracle. But the world was indifferent. His small shop, once bustling with life, now echoed emptiness.
The townspeople hurried past him, their footsteps muffled by their own worries. They no longer stopped to chat or inquire about the weather. The old man’s heart sank as he counted the remaining eggs in his baskets. Six left. Just six. The same number that the woman had purchased weeks ago.
He remembered her vividly—the woman with the determined eyes and the crisp dollar bill. She had bargained with him, driving a hard bargain for those six eggs. “$1.25 or I will leave,” she had said, her voice firm. He had agreed, even though it was less than his asking price. Desperation had cIouded his judgment.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The old seller kept his promise, selling those six eggs for $1.25 each time. He watched the seasons change—the leaves turning from green to gold, then falling to the ground like forgotten dreams. His fingers traced the grooves on the wooden crate, worn smooth by years of use.
One bitter morning, he woke to find frost cIinging to the windowpane. The chill seeped through the cracks, settling in his bones. He brewed a weak cup of tea, the steam rising like memories. As he sat on the same wooden crate, he realized that he could no longer afford to keep his small shop open.
The townspeople had moved on, their lives intertwined with busier streets and brighter lights. The old man packed up his remaining eggs, their fragile shells cradled in his weathered hands. He whispered a silent farewell to the empty shop, its walls bearing witness to countless stories—the laughter of children, the haggling of customers, and the quiet moments when he had counted his blessings.
Outside, the world was gray—a canvas waiting for a final stroke. He walked the familiar path, the weight of those six eggs heavier than ever. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting long shadows on the pavement. He reached the edge of town, where the road met the horizon.
And there, under the vast expanse of sky, he made his decision. With tears in his eyes, he gently placed the eggs on the ground. One by one, he cracked them open, releasing their golden yoIks. The wind carried their essence away, a bittersweet offering to the universe.
The old egg seller stood there, his heart as fragile as the shells he had broken. He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. And in that quiet moment, he whispered a prayer—for the woman who had bargained with him, for the townspeople who had forgotten, and for himself.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned away from the empty road. His footsteps faded, leaving behind a trail of memories. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, six golden yolks danced—a silent requiem for a forgotten dream.
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