Old Ghosts in Reykjavík

I pressed 'Send' too soon... here you go!

November 2021, and I’m in Reykjavík. I’ve found a café that’s still open. I have a glass of warm red wine and a toasted sandwich. A candle burns on the table in front of me.

My notepad is open, my pen uncapped. I pick it up and review what I just wrote.

I’ve been feeling bloody anxious, I’ve written. I underline the last two words, then add. Why?

Why?

Most people enjoy Compendia for free, and it’s great to have you on board. But it’s the handful who do pay who allow me to continue writing here, so please consider it. ***FLASH SALE***

I love this city, I should be happy here. I’ve only visited once before, but I fell for it, hard.

That was March, 2020. When the plane took off to fly me out here people in the UK were beginning to worry that the pandemic was indeed global, and that maybe we’d be affected after all. When I left — just a week later —  I flew straight into the first lockdown, and for months I couldn’t shake the feeling I should be living in Iceland.

This time, though? It’s both completely different and exactly the same. Which is to say, the city is largely unchanged, but it’s a different me visiting it.