In some countries, it’s the other way around, but in Iceland it’s the mountains that are on the move. The sea is absolutely still.
Of course, on other days it breaks over the rocks with a vengeance, trying to wash the island away. So far, it has failed, but the sacred dance continues. I have brought it home. I left Canada, convinced that it was no longer possible to write a memoir using the character “I”. I return with the literature of the earth, and with these trolls and ogres, dwarves and elves. More on that in the days to come.
Love her land, her waters, her shores! To see her body as you do is wonderful. I saw your book at the ‘ Amazing Space’ in Wells after driving through the volcanic plateau up to the Cariboo. Great Rocks! The man who works at that art gallery loves you and the book. He tried to sell me a canoeing guide to the Bowron lakes, which looks like a box…It was funny, he said, ‘oh, don’t go that way. or you’ll die’. Love you, Harold. Peace, Jill
Well, by the sounds of it he should have loved the book. He designed it! I like the idea of the Bowron Lakes being a box… a box of water. One slips inside. Great. Blessings Harold