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keeping him inside when it’s really necessary. That Hjalti

who was with you still hasn’t been found. The doctor and

his wife sent some men over to Nes. What a place that’s

supposed to be. The men said that when they got there,

they found no Hjalti, but that everyone was doing well.

People can be so stupid. They might have been standing

upright, but of course they weren’t doing well. Maybe I

should go there and never come back? I wonder if you’ve

recovered? You two didn’t look entirely well when you left.

There was still a chill in you, and particularly in the big

man, Jens. He made it all the way home. His sister was so

terribly happy. She’s considerably better than us, from the

sound of it. You see that I’ve come to the end of this sheet

of paper, there’s no more space. Nor can I spend more time

on it. I know that I can’t write, you don’t need to tell me.

My letters are as ugly and tattered as old hens.”

I THINK ABOUT YOU SOMETIMES. It’s good to walk up

over the Village where the tussocks are soft, you lie down

between them and it’s as if they embrace you. The boy is

lying between them, looking at the sky. I think about you

sometimes. Then it occurred to me to write you a letter.

Which means I’d thought about you. He lies there so long

that the birds have started to become used to him; even the

redshank has calmed down. But I also think sometimes