One dreams of climbing, but it’s winter in Iceland.
One plods, dressed for the moon.
At the edge of night in December, at mid-afternoon, Snæfellsjökull reveals one of the depths of the interaction between Earth and the Sun: light is not the illumination that humans “see” but a glow set up within objects, with differing intensities. Some of these intensities are what humans call “dark.” Well, by that standard, it’s all dark.
Snæfellsjökull from Ingjaldshóllkirkja
Everything in the image above is receiving the same radiation from the sun, but all are speaking it differently. Here you can see how they are sorted out by the human eye, and how the mountain glows with no more intensity and no less mystery than the dark foreground lava hills. Mountains have an inside. You can see that here, at the point at which the light and dark meet.
In Akureyri, the sculpture catches the sky.
Granted, the sky is falling, but still. In Reykjavik, however, the catchers are caught by the light. Granted, the light is an artifice, but still.
Somehow, it is the same impulse, one that Icelanders have been walking in circles around for 1100 years, as they try to figure it out. Out on Snæfellsnes, one just gives up and leaves it as an open gesture…
…while on Vesturgata in Reykjavik, one tries to shelter from the cold of that gesture and ignore the frostbite on the nose.
These are deep mysteries. One can only rejoice at the courage with which they are met!
Right. Reykjavik has cats. Read all about the dears here: A Cat Lover’s Guide to Reykjavik. 20,000 cats in the Capital Region. And 19,000 humans up North in Iceland’s other great city. A coincidence? I think not. I think the cats of Akureyri keep humans. They are super sneaky. Do you see a cat in the image below?
No? That’s because she was just happy to let you know that she was out in the blizzard, and you, well, you weren’t, were you. Sorry, Capital Regioners. A victory for Akureyri here, by the looks of it.