Iceland

 In Reykjavik I stood on the soft harbor and let waves thread my feet under arctic immortal twilight. Deep blue and lavender crisscrossing the sky in swirling vistas. Perched on the pier out could see pulsing red flare tens of miles away. Volcano that decided to erupt this spring. Shells glazed arctic tear drop blue lurking under waves to match the sky. Silent murmur of city behind. Lighthouse in front, sentinel to a midnight sun, weakly glowing, slowly spinning. Ice water to shock the veins. Wave, ebb, and wave again. Cold, numb, and cold again. World really just a yammering unheard wind-flung speech. Blackened hill-covered peninsula to the north rising out of wine-dark sea. Immortal twilight, wine-dark, liminal luminosity. Peripheral edge of pain to mind turned perennial. Fire, ice, black. Peace.

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