Wednesday, August 30, 2017

there's poetry and there's porridge

Still don't want to leave my tiny room in the summer paradise that is now yielding to autumn weather. I huddle by the fireplace, listen to my favourite music and stare out over a grey sea and a few rain-pelted birch and alder trees.

Two of the islands I can see from here are poetically called (translated from the local language) Isle of Shadows and Isle of Grey Souls. The third one is named Porridge Island. What happened there?

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