The Icelandic genealogy

I've never been there

I imagine those happenings

where bright and vague little beings

are moving randomly behind each name

like in a fairy tale I would write for Aisha's childhood

a fairy tale about light brown rabbits with big ears and definitely blue kittens

in other times outlines of fantastic ancient birds carring on their wings

all the prince charmings of a long line of nameless girls with silver curly hair

imprinted in the Icelandic genealogy

I don't believe in books, I rather believe that every tree has the right to grow its roots in the ordinary ice of the day

I rather believe that everything should be told

for generations

everything, love, hate, the banal and the passing word

only the secrets should be imprinted beyond the reflection of mirrors,

people but not their nymphs

left behind all those inevitable gray stories,

people but not their fleeting birds of hearts