Waterfalls collect travellers and then let them go.
Iceland lives off of this desire . Storms are an older form of commerce. They bring kelp, fish and sea wrack through the white ring of surf (or fate) that surround the black land. They also bring light.
I am learning to walk away from the waterfall. I am not disappointed.
Every minute, the light changes. I’ve been watching that . By early evening (3 pm), the water flowing out of the land’s pastures is blood
A gorgeous, non-human blood. Life is an art.
Nature is a drug that makes us walk past the dark, as if it were not telling us where we live and what is coming to us on the tide.