yfir holt og heiði

I take the shortcut, every day, even though I should turn down the street and walk along the shore while I have the chance. It's silly.

There's something charming about it, though. It goes over a patch of ground cut by paths. There is blágrýti spotted with lichen, birch both great and small, little grass. It's a spot of unbuilt ground and ungrazed. Völvuleiði í stórborginni? Álögublettur? No, because no one would think to mow it. It is a plot from the age of settlement. I walk there every day, footing it over a tiny, tiny heath to work.