Grief-stricken Norwegians laid wreaths at a makeshift shrine outside Oslo’s cathedral Just two streets away from the site of the bomb attack that brought carnage to the city centre and killed seven people.
They came in their hundreds to pay their respects; tears streaming down their cheeks.
The makeshift shrine on the doorstep of Oslo's cathedral is the focal point for a nation's grief. The bomb site is just two streets away, the damaged buildings where seven died and dozens more injured is clearly visible through the Norwegian drizzle.
"It will take us a long time to get over this," said Hilde Stenseng, 30, a civil servant, her arm tightly clasped around her friend.
"There are soldiers on the streets and everyone is much more quiet. We are a small country, so everyone is affected. You can guarantee that somehow we will all know people, or know someone who does, that have been caught up in this. It's a national outpouring of grief."
Her friend Silje Indrebo, 34, said: "Part of me thinks its easier to explain it away by thinking it was one crazy loner, rather than an organisation out to attack us. But then again, it is so disturbing to think that it was one of us."
A woman in a long white dress with a red setter on a lead wiped away tears. Beside her, another woman stood with her hand over her mouth in stunned silence.
Families held each other tight, while couples clasped each others hands.
Inside the austere whitewashed walls of the cathedral, queues of people waited silently to light a candle.
Beneath the fresco of stars and Biblical scenes, the pews were packed with Norwegians in quiet contemplation. Some knelt in prayer, while others rested with their heads bowed, or gazed towards the altar.
Outside, the crowds continued to grow - forcing the trams that rumbled past to slow to a halt as people moved off their tracks and squeezed onto the pavement.
There was little other noise on the streets except for the scrape of shovels and clink of glass, as workers began to sweep up the carpet of broken windows.
Candles flickered in front of the growing number of flowers, many of which were tied with ribbons of the Norwegian flag.
"I am sending warm thoughts to anyone who lost their lives in Oslo on Friday," read one dedication, attached to a bunch of yellow roses.
People were drawn to the huge red brick cathedral despite the rain.
Nels Moen, 62, had brought his grandchildren Henrik, 9, and Markus, 14, to be part of the sombre gathering. "I cannot believe it," he said, wiping away tears. His hand resting on the shoulder of his youngest grandson, he struggled to find words to explain how it felt.
"I have lived in Oslo all my life. But this... It is a very dark hour," he said.
Next to Mr Moen, a pair of blonde students in long cardigans, leggings and Ugg-style boots paused with their flowers.
Mia Solvang, 20, an osteopathy student, cradling a bouquet of white lilies, said: "We're here because it is so sad. We didn't know what else to do, and we wanted to pay our respects."
Sandra Solbakken, 20, a medical student, added: "What happened to the young people is just unspeakable. It's so tragic.
"Oslo is different today. People are lost in their own thoughts, and just staring into silence. We didn't think it could happen here - but we were wrong."
Teams of soldiers in full camouflage clothing, helmets and machine guns guarded the barriers.
Thomas Woelner, 36, an oil engineer, had come with his girlfriend to lay flowers at the site of the blast, ducking under the police tape to place the bunch of roses on the street corner.
"It's just so horrible and sad," he said, his face ashen.
"We were here half an hour before the bomb, and then I went home and felt it sitting on my sofa. It's just such a shock.
"Last night everywhere was so empty. People were sitting in bars, because they wanted to be together, but sitting in silence. The city feels so different now.
"I have never seen soldiers on the streets of Oslo before. It doesn't feel like my town," he remarked.
His girlfriend Ragmhild Wadahal, 35, added: "It is unbelievable that a Norwegian guy could do this to his own country."
Families held each other tight, while couples clasped each others hands.
Inside the austere whitewashed walls of the cathedral, queues of people waited silently to light a candle.
Beneath the fresco of stars and Biblical scenes, the pews were packed with Norwegians in quiet contemplation. Some knelt in prayer, while others rested with their heads bowed, or gazed towards the altar.
Outside, the crowds continued to grow - forcing the trams that rumbled past to slow to a halt as people moved off their tracks and squeezed onto the pavement.
There was little other noise on the streets except for the scrape of shovels and clink of glass, as workers began to sweep up the carpet of broken windows.
Candles flickered in front of the growing number of flowers, many of which were tied with ribbons of the Norwegian flag.
"I am sending warm thoughts to anyone who lost their lives in Oslo on Friday," read one dedication, attached to a bunch of yellow roses.
People were drawn to the huge red brick cathedral despite the rain.
Nels Moen, 62, had brought his grandchildren Henrik, 9, and Markus, 14, to be part of the sombre gathering. "I cannot believe it," he said, wiping away tears. His hand resting on the shoulder of his youngest grandson, he struggled to find words to explain how it felt.
"I have lived in Oslo all my life. But this... It is a very dark hour," he said.
Next to Mr Moen, a pair of blonde students in long cardigans, leggings and Ugg-style boots paused with their flowers.
Mia Solvang, 20, an osteopathy student, cradling a bouquet of white lilies, said: "We're here because it is so sad. We didn't know what else to do, and we wanted to pay our respects."
Sandra Solbakken, 20, a medical student, added: "What happened to the young people is just unspeakable. It's so tragic.
"Oslo is different today. People are lost in their own thoughts, and just staring into silence. We didn't think it could happen here - but we were wrong."
Teams of soldiers in full camouflage clothing, helmets and machine guns guarded the barriers.
Thomas Woelner, 36, an oil engineer, had come with his girlfriend to lay flowers at the site of the blast, ducking under the police tape to place the bunch of roses on the street corner.
"It's just so horrible and sad," he said, his face ashen.
"We were here half an hour before the bomb, and then I went home and felt it sitting on my sofa. It's just such a shock.
"Last night everywhere was so empty. People were sitting in bars, because they wanted to be together, but sitting in silence. The city feels so different now.
"I have never seen soldiers on the streets of Oslo before. It doesn't feel like my town," he remarked.
His girlfriend Ragmhild Wadahal, 35, added: "It is unbelievable that a Norwegian guy could do this to his own country."
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