Fifth Journey Day 26: Window Without Frame
Date: June 3, 2025
Location: Tórshavn, Faroe Islands
The rain never really stopped — it just became misty when I walked toward Tinganes. The wooden buildings were close together, and their dark red paint was streaked with years of weather. I kept my hood up, but I wasn't bothered by the dampness. There was something calming about the water, the old stone paths, and the way the harbor curved quietly at the town's edge.
I walked slowly, without a plan. My steps felt guided more by the feel of the ground than by where I was going — shiny cobblestones, the texture of wet wood, the sudden gust of wind at corners. Two gulls sat on a roof, facing the gray sea. I stopped and watched them, wondering what stillness meant to them. Around the bend, I found a narrow path between two houses. I stepped into it and let the world narrow. One side of the stone was damp, and the timber on the other side was dripping. You could barely hear the quiet sound of rain in the moss.
I didn't draw. Not today. I didn't want to interrupt anything. Instead, I carried the forms without saying anything. There's an arched window, a rusted hinge, and a fold in the sky. I'll remember them by feel.
I'm back in the room now, and it's raining again. There's a faint clinking sound outside, like a flagpole or a loose shutter. I feel quiet, but not tired. It's just full, and you don't need to say anything. Sometimes, I just want the day to be over. I think today did.
