sunnudagur, febrúar 18, 2007


I loved those stacks.

The basement level contained treasures. I once laid hand on a leatherbound copy of Landnámabók with facing-page Latin translation; it had been printed in Boston for the King. Books that old didn't circulate. This was probably another way of telling us not to attempt walking off with any jewel from that hoard, lest the coiled serpent that rested there huffing and steaming leap into the air and wreak firey doom upon the town.

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