I’m walking through the winter, each breath in this coldness visible, taking each footstep with care. I’m walking through a place where there are only four hours of daylight in this darkest of seasons. Here is a place where you might think nothing could possibly grow or flourish.
I’m walking with particular care because the last time I was here, I fell and shattered the bones in the limb which is my livelihood, my right arm. Thereafter I had a year of darkness and depression, pain and illness. Now I’m back walking through winter in Iceland’s Thingvellir National Park.
