After our attempts to rent a car failed, Craig and I took a bus to Reine. It snowed off and on and the wind was sharp. I think I am having difficulty writing about it because it all felt so familiar somehow. This may be as a result of having lived so many places. The mountains on Lofoten looked similar in many ways to areas of the Scottish Highlands -ancient and stoic. The slate grey of the rock reminded me driving north from Vancouver to Hope. The smell of the sea took me back to Tofino and Ucluelet. And the cold piercing everything. The memories striking like flint, but instead of fire, the sparks are ice crystals.
Still, I would love to see Reine in the lushness of summer. Black and green. I think I would wear a skirt of deep purple. It would only be right.
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