Seydisfjordur in the sun, with a drink and the lucky blue sky holding sunset back. Clean blue canvas stretched over green, topped with brown; stone flecked with the last shredded white of winter’s snow, now melting, cascading down every cleft, feeding the water sinuous below. This is nature’s deft sketch of a glaciated valley, archetyping itself onto our consciousness; imprinted like a massive woodblock – carved to reflect reality, inked in colours I could not imagine then pressed onto memory firmly, passionately, like a lover’s kiss.
Page from my travel diary:
Sunset from the bar ….
Ohh I SO loved seeing Seydisfjordur ….
Fantasmagorigal (is that from Mary Poppins’ even?)
I could’na, would’na, should’na, ought’na borne witness to its beauty if you hadn’t have found it !