|Sunday morning wall planter--with egg|
|the first of Sunday's domestic windows|
Iceland. On Sunday morning, I went for a walk and discovered the windows of downtown Reykjavik. I should have photographed more of them, but I was uncomfortable walking around with my tourist's camera on a strap, staring into people's homes. Good lord, couldn't I afford them any privacy? I fed my conscience some crumbs: They intended these windows to be peered at. In many, many houses and apartments, on the public side of the curtain, appeared little displays. Shop windows with nothing for sale, relics of Amsterdam, a lettuce.
(Why? Why here and not in Edmonton?)
|above the egg|
|at the top of a hill, a grass roof|
|view from the hostel dorm room|
|my own window|
I was charmed. In true character, on Sunday morning I was feeling anxious about being in Iceland. I wrote:
I've had a hard time being here. I've felt almost constantly that I am creating an inadequate experience for myself. I've been ashamed of needing to spend so much time alone on my bunk . . . All useless, and really quite mean. I've seen and done a lot since arriving here, and I've had a Good Time (when not feeling paralyzed by shame, so much so that I couldn't even take photographs).
When will I learn to be gentler?
|view from other dorm window|
|three old houses downtown|
|Sunday morning roofs and windows|
In retrospect, the Sunday walk was a triumph. I was fretful. I felt lost and lonely. I felt like an imposter. Who was I? Those houses and windows and roofs illustrated so much of what I find beautiful and important to notice and cultivate in everyday life. Colours, lines, signs of people traveling, growing things, retreating home, displaying a chosen face, arranging their worlds.
More pictures followed, so--more Iceland posts to come.