_    .  ,   .           . 
    *  / \_ *  / \_      _  *        *   /\'__        * 
      /    \  /    \,   ((        .    _/  /  \  *'. 
 .   /\/\  /\/ :' __ \_  `          _^/  ^/    `--. 
    /    \/  \  _/  \-'\      *    /.' ^_   \_   .'\  * 
  /\  .-   `. \/     \ /==~=-=~=-=-;.  _/ \ -. `_/   \ 
 /  `-.__ ^   / .-'.--\ =-=~_=-=~=^/  _ `--./ .-'  `- 
/    `.  / /       `.~-^=-=~=^=.-'      '-._ `._ 
 
 
 
 
Five naked people run into a frame. They wash themselves with snow in sublime landscape. It is not clear where they are going. There is a plastic bag outside in the wind and something else. This happens again and again on screens. I have seen this before.  
It’s like something from a book or a movie. 
 
“I remember well the white paperback from when I was a boy: Life and death and other meditations by Professor Sigurður Norðdal. I have a feeling that today editors and publishers would find that title rather too dramatic. They would scribble on the front page of the manuscript: “Find another title?”
These are the times we live in, and it doesn’t matter what we think of that.
Vissictitudes, have they gone out of fashion?”
 
Ragnar Helgi Ólafsson, My Father’s Library, pp. 49.
 
 

 

 
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