This picture makes me think of stillness, an oppressive stillness, everything so quiet you can't even pull in a breath. And then I try to think beyond the placid, even blue, and imagine the movement of ice, the way molecules of water crinch together as they freeze into stillness. I think of how Icelandic poets so many centuries ago tried to put a name to all the noise they heard in the deep, dark cold, and what they came up with was religion, things to worship, to bring stillness to the chaos of black and chill: gnomes, fairies, elves, gods.
Listening: "Gobbledigook," Sigur Ros
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