Fifth Journey Day 35: The Sky Did Not End

Date: June 12, 2025
Location: Longyearbyen, Svalbard

I walked along the edge of Adventfjorden this afternoon, and it was so quiet that I could barely hear my own thoughts. It wasn't empty, just wide — a kind of spaciousness that asked nothing of me. The sea was calm, and its surface was a shade of brushed aluminum, occasionally interrupted by a dark wave or the brief glint of a seabird far off. There are no waves and no urgency. The land here stays in place without making a sound.

I made a loud noise as I walked on the gravel, the kind that makes you feel exposed. I kept walking. On one side, there was thawed ground — patches of moss beginning to rise through gray soil. On the other side, the fjord stretched out flat under the sky. I didn't say anything. I didn't hear anyone. I could only hear the soft sound of my coat brushing against itself and the quiet ticking of small stones shifting under my feet.

It felt good to be alone without feeling lonely. The light here is always the same — it doesn't change. It's just that simple. I stopped to sketch for a few minutes, just to draw where the land and sea meet. The drawing is rough, but that's OK. This place doesn't follow simple, straight lines.

I'm still getting used to it. My body doesn't know when to sleep, and my thoughts have grown long and slow, like shadows that don't fall. But there's something genuine about this pace — it gives us time to listen without rushing for answers.

Tomorrow, I'll try to move more deliberately. I don't want to do more. I want to feel the transitions better. I want to feel the change from silence to noise, from stone to moss, and from one breath to the next.