“Eg spring ut og friðurinn I loft upp, vaðaður nýju ljósi – Eg græt og eg græt – aftengdur”
- Sigur Rós
“Not I”, said she, looking at me from under lashes like ragged black curtains, her pupils contracting in the light. “I am not a prophet, just a story teller. Don’t mistake me; the dust in my hair is misleading, but my golden heart will never lie.”
I pondered her words for a moment and scratched my chin. She turned on her side and began to doze.