Fifth Journey Day 24: The Gull Didn’t Move

Date: June 1, 2025
Location: Höfn, Iceland

I spent most of the morning near the harbor, sitting on a bench. That bench had probably been there for a long time, just like the quiet hours I was spending there. The boats were still — tied to the spot, but moving a little bit with the water's current. Lines stretched from the dock to the hull. They were like strong sentences, each with its own salt and rust.

I didn't draw today. I thought I would, but instead my hand stayed in my pocket. I watched a gull stand still on a railing for over fifteen minutes. It had its wings tucked in and was looking out to sea. That moment stayed with me. I like it for its clarity, not its symbolism. I like how it's still and unhurried.

The tide was low, and a thin layer of green slime had formed along the stone edges. I ran my fingers along the ridges of a coil of rope — it was frayed, damp, and smelled of sea and diesel — and found it oddly grounding. A man passed by with a basket of fish, nodding in acknowledgment but saying nothing. That, too, felt like a kind of rhythm.

What I remember most is the sound of the wind inside the mast lines. It was a loud, almost musical hum. It reminded me of paper just before tearing. It's not a warning, but it's not a call either. Just being there.

I didn't do much today, but I was still affected by the events of the day. It was as if I had agreed to meet the day's events quietly, like a tide. Maybe that is enough.