Sunday, December 28, 2008

Scandinavian Skyline, our handicapped minds and beautiful Sigur Ros

Around 1 AM, I was craving for a hot dog or something of that sort. I was a bit weary, I had long and curly hair back then and the next morning I was going to develop a migraine attack because of some bad wine that waited under direct sunlight for 4 days. Before heading back to the tent, I raised my head and looked up into the sky. I looked around into the thousands walking, jumping, falling around. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. All faces merged into each other and the clouds were barely moving above my head. One side of the sky was navy blue; whilst the other was getting only dark. Within a couple of hours sun would have already started from one of the sides. The air was pure fresh. L. was not bothered with my whining attitude:

"But there are also good things about the north. The sky is always so huge, isn't it?"

She was right. Skies mattered to me. Especially when I let my soul tear my body apart and go on orbital journeys into far away lands where friends and family lived, knocking on their plywood doors, slowly creeping on their mahogany floors, having a cup of tea with honey and coming back.

and there was at least the next best thing of the north... Sigur Ros... the shadows of tall Scandinavians and hybernating fiddlesticks... Those were the most amazing moments of early summer days in Scandinavia. The recent Sigur Ros performance in Alexandra Palace, London was as good enough to bring back the endless shades of sky-blue and elvish chanting melodies.

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