cold, empty, the imperfections weighing heavily on new-formed holes; eenzaam maar niet alleen, the stone said, and i want to tell them all they're wrong. gifts are no longer gifts but shared blood, half-finished water bottles, little oil flasks, it's crazy what kind of things can mean things. the past few weeks have been too much ending too suddenly, and now i find myself in sudden halt unable to take everything around me in anything other than calm numbness; more blueberries, make me as blue as ice and waves and sky, so i can take a break for a minute
campfires on the beach with crackling seaweed flying burning into the air, the cold lingering around the little bubble of heat we created, there was beer and smoke and warmth and stories, and the northern lights unfolding into the sky for us, how far i have travelled

if i slur a bit it's just because i'm confused don't think too much of it

the incredible freedom, the freedom impossible to put into words pictures films thoughts memories, headspace, like that first breath kinda feeling after the silence under water pressure, it's like the air has found its peace in the chilly starry short smokey nights in which i woke up again and again, falling back into sleep after wrapping those sleeping bags a little bit tighter each time. bundled up and rolling across the land, next to what can only be described as everything, my eyes would never get tired of that film framed by my window, of endless characters of nature running past. endless like the warmth and the stories that i have learned, it was a liberating encounter with the big wide world to find a home in people again so quickly; hope, mostly. iceland, this is not a love letter, just a quick message to a new-found friend.