saturday matins on sandvíksheiði.

the journey on thursday evening: it seemed to me that if I reached out I could touch you.

not joy but purpose and peace. 

so rare. 

so many errors. so much time wasted.

the other day you said: I am enough.

I heard and listened but I have still not understood.

a change though:

previously my work seemed to me to be a real block.

now I have accepted, at least partially, that it has to be my way.

but I can only work on this when you are near.