i have my own flat for the week overlooking the canal at Singel 70 and this is my view at 11:11 p.m. on my first night in amsterdam. from this vantage point in the heart of town, i can smell french fries, marijuana and the shame of the more sad and sullen seeking a bargain on love with the bench-warming team of hookers in amsterdam’s beige-light district. (red lights lose a bit of saturation in the haze of desperation.)
17 hours of layover in reykjavik on my way to amsterdam… walking around town i discovered that icelanders are not afraid of color. and don’t get me started on their mad ornamentation skillz. what i should be showing is a picture of is their deft wickedness with corrugated aluminum… imagine the offspring from mating a san francisco victorian with the tool shed… it works on so many levels, and seems to be typical of homes of the extreme lattitudes. yes, ushuaia, i’m talking about you.
never got completely dark outside, just a perpetual dusk after midnight… i envy the kids here. remember when you were little, playing outdoors all summer and your mom would call you in just as it was getting difficult to see the grimmacing face of the neighborhood weakling during the twilight games of dodgeball… and it would soon be too dark to continue said humiliation? might explain the high suicide rate in iceland… on second thought… replace “envy” with another word… one that means not envy… yeah, that’s what i feel for the kids of iceland.