Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll

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.

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