The Streets of Reykjavik, Iceland

I walked through midtown on a day like any other. It was not the first time, but it felt like the first time. These desolated streets.
A few thoughts came into my mind along the walk, some of them very clear, some of them looser. Some time passed, the clear thoughts became clear and vice versa.
Now I am split between if they had any importance or not. I can just recall the feeling of the start of civilization.

I know it won’t change neither humanity nor society.
I know that it might be of no importance to anyone.
I know that it left my heart feeling quite warm, on a sunny clear snow fallen Sunday.

Remembering that I started to recall old times, well before I was born. Long gong time, before my eyes.
Somehow the essence of Icelandic life, came into a clearer state.
The time before the preconceived ideas of civilization. Anarchy at its full force. Like free style in Jazz. Each man building its house, each house meeting the need of those inside. A window put where it needs to be put or just where it would look good. No imitation of the next door neighbour. It makes me wonder, if it was the time of ultra competitive individual style or the time of non jealousy. A surprise on each corner, not knowing where you would find each element. Most of the colours painted in bright colours, contrasting with the snow, following the path of t he mountain across the bay. Remember the warning sign of the winter is always there first. The warning of previous times.
I long for the time when need was met with an action and not with an idealistic existence, dreaming of a certain purpose.