Alone on an island and the silence is like walking into a wall. These short winter days feel like a permanent sunset, the way the sun rolls along the horizon for a few hours before returning beneath the earth, as if it’s too exhausted to go any higher. I sympathize. Today I came across the phrase “algo-seance scene” and realized I’m losing track of not only the future but the present.
We took a bus to the neighboring island to buy some coffee and eggs and salmiakki. Then we sat in a gas station diner waiting for the last bus back to our flat by the sea. An ancient couple with yellow-white hair slurped coffee and murmured to one another while reading the local newspaper, their voices stained with decades of cigarette smoke. Sometimes it’s nice to find a place where time stands still.
