I'm in the anxiety stage of leaving town, where it's too early to actually start packing but close enough to leaving to really want to pack. I like to be prepared for the inevitability of my plans getting derailed, which is exactly the sort of recursive thinking spiral that I find comforting if only in its familiarity. (As an added bonus, it tends to drive everyone else around me insane.) We all know that a thing I am not is patient, and the time between now and going to the airport next week is going to be excruciating. Let's just get to the adventure, already.
Because of a fire recently I got to see what a room looks like under the floorboards. I like knowing these things, the insides and underneaths and inbetweens. This I think it part of the appeal of Iceland, all of its movement and geothermal activity the underneaths and inbetweens of the planet. Like the beginning and the end of the world all at once.
Because of a fire recently I got to see what a room looks like under the floorboards. I like knowing these things, the insides and underneaths and inbetweens. This I think it part of the appeal of Iceland, all of its movement and geothermal activity the underneaths and inbetweens of the planet. Like the beginning and the end of the world all at once.
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