No straying outside of the lines here! Out on the farm, though? Well, yee-ha!
Maybe it has something to do with a love of books in the city. Used books.
And their rural versions: sheep folds.
Doubt it? Look again! Doesn’t look like a window anymore, does it:
It looks like Iceland: fields, folds, and books in one.
Here in Grundarfjörður, a horse trailer and a boat are both parked together in the harbour on an Autumn day. Fish and horses, eh. That’s the Icelandic way.
Does that not suggest that this country is a harbour, or a series of them? Are not both journeys, into the sea of the mountains or the sea of the waves, the same journey? And this third journey, up?
Life here is a shore.
It is a dangerous place of passage, a place of setting down, departure and return, and a place of harbour and shipwreck at once, but it is the only one there is. It is a tidal zone, for humans.