Packing paper (by 十永)
Gauldalen Valley, Sør-Trøndelag, Norway (by Swedish National Heritage Board)
A Kindly Ghost by Angela Barrett
I’m stuck in the middle of December rain. Worse than a snowstorm, it makes my fingertips go blue and drenches me from head to toe, and I can only see a grey sky and the desolate snow-less landscape.
Though I’ve been living with an ice-song for a while and I’ve been learning the name of the shades of blue and grey that lives within it. I’ve always thought that mountains were secret-keepers, and I find that there are different kinds of mountains, and icebergs, submersible ice-mountains, lords of ice and water, are the biggest secret-keepers of all.
Your eyes might have an ice-blue shade to them but I know that this blue is found in the tips of the waves rolling away from the Arctic into more clement waters. Put on your selkie-skin and swims through those waves, soon you’ll see that the ice in your eyes has turned to water, and while the saltiness might linger on your cheeks for a while and sting the blue out of your irises, the ice free ocean will take them away from you, and you’ll be able to shed your skin once more and look at the snowstorm from the edge of a candle-lit window. Safe warm, and home.
Athena on top of my head today
1866 AD below
They trapped her in a stained glass wall.
While I attempted to seal my faith with the men who hide behind the panels of comic books. Dancing around. Mother superior jumped the gun. Mother superior jumped the gun.