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4
Damn it all. The boy receives a letter in which he’s asked
about his heartbeat. As if living isn’t enough of a trial.
He wakes up each morning just before six, reaches out and
grabs a book, poems to read as he emerges from his dreams
into the delicate morning, connecting night and day,
dreams and waking with poems, there may be no better
way for a person to wake up. Yet the questions don’t go
anywhere, what is he supposed to do with his life?, does he
love Ragnheiður, whom he’s met twice since returning from
his journey with Jens, a journey that went all the way to the
end of the world, through gloomy weather, through life and
death. The first time, they met on the street and she looked
at the boy as if he were nothing, and even a little less than
that. The next day he was about to enter the German
Bakery when Ragnheiður stepped out with Danish pastries
for her father, Friðrik, warm pastries were practically the
only luxury he permitted himself and Ragnheiður the only
one who was allowed to buy them, and then she wanted to
get to know the boy, I heard you nearly killed yourself on
your journey with the drunkard, how could you ever think
of dying before I left for Copenhagen? Jens is not a drunk,
he said, feeling mildly dizzy, her eyes are somewhat wide-
set, those grey eyes that can be cold as frost, as the blood of
a cod; between them dwells my fate, he thought, nothing I
can do about it. This is a new sweater, she said, yes, he said.
It’s beautiful, they know how to clothe you, you’ve got
dandruff on your shoulder, said Ragnheiður, brushing off
his right shoulder.