Mo and I in front of a giant shopping center on the outskirts of Reykjavik. It rains only. We are now identical rain jackets with the small Icelandic flag on the upper sleeve. Mon photographed young artists with artists hairstyles. They say they now live in Iceland.
The Grouse enters a museum. Mo and I did want to talk with the young artists just like we would all be wonderful to adopt, but we quickly and follow the grouse. We buy tickets to enter the building to be allowed. The museum has an exhibition to see where the wood model like this is how the museum looked like a hundred thirty years. The trick goes like this: The museum was not yet at that time. Reykjavik hundred and thirty years ago is a saw mill or something, and people who work in the sawmill, so Icelandic legends gather must also hold live somewhere. There, where the museum stands today, you know a sign out that this will be the place where one is the museum.
says The Grouse:
"Come with me, I want to show my home."
Mo said enthusiastically:
"Home is still where no one was"
see the grouse from battered. It is gray or white. I travel because I could not take it anymore, that things turn around. Are you on the road, you turn things around. Mon finds the hypocrisy and escapist and trivial. Home is where you have to do nothing. Apart from mathematical computing functions only because I believe that people never have a meaningless expression. Iceland a hundred thirty years ago when there was no GPS.
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