a small tid-bit from my ex-father-in-law Jón, who passed away a short time ago. going through his log book, which he kept at both his summer houses — I guess a hold-over from his days as ship’s captain — this bit of Icelandic poetry along with a translation by Magga and Jay:
referring to a long-ago event, from the early summer of 1992, on the first day out in the country for a hike with newly-arrived Nick. long story short, I fell into a Reykjadalur fumarole. aiiii, shit! first-degree burns on my ankles…