Fifth Journey Day 23: The Sound Between Steps

Date: May 31, 2025
Location: Egilsstaðir, Iceland

This afternoon, I walked along the edge of Lagarfljót. The river moved quietly and powerfully — neither fast nor slow, but unstoppable. The town was painted in soft colors: gray roofs, pale walls, and the occasional burst of color in a shutter or garden gate. On the other side, the grass was short and wet where the water had recently gone down, leaving ribbons of silt and flat reeds.

There weren't many people out — just one couple walking a dog, a man unloading something from a van. The silence felt clean, not empty. I stuck to the trail, even though I didn't have a specific plan. I noticed that the clouds didn't change much here. They hung in place, spreading the sun's light across the river, which looked like brushed metal.

I sat on a small wooden bench at some point. I didn't sit down because I was tired. I sat down to feel more still. The wind brushed the water and lifted some of my hair — not a problem, just a little bit of something extra. I sketched loosely in my notebook, focusing on the general idea rather than the specifics. I wasn't trying to record the view. It's just quiet. It's about having patience.

I thought about how the river doesn't change its course. It follows them and slowly changes them, but it doesn't press down on them. Maybe that's a kind of strength I want to learn — to keep going without feeling rushed. To be soft but strong in intention.

The day went like that — nothing big, but things did get a little clearer.

I'll sleep well tonight.