June 21st, the longest day of the year, and I'm in Iceland! (I wrote in my travel journal as sunlight poured in the window of the hostel at 11:00 pm.) There's this push and pull: the yellow, blue and red wooden houses and pine trees against the harbor and the piercing, thin sky; the fish stew and hand-knits, mix with the avant-garde: the billowy, asymmetrical jackets of the young women; riotous colors and murals, a forward-looking optimism. Iceland is in motion.
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