"ok, but I don't pose"
straight from the horses mouth
Reykjavik was tip-top over the hill trousers down.
When we managed to clear an Indian restaurant one night of the only other two patrons, we got to talking to the Hungarian Waitress. As our fruitless chase of the Northern Lights ran out of time, we envied her her unexpected sighting. Wandering home from the restaurant late one night, due Reykjavik 101, she'd glanced up at the great ebony abyss that hung above. Her name was Aurora and she danced among the stars. "What colours?" I asked almost hanging from my chair. "Purple", she said. "Purple and green." From that moment on I listened to her, engaged as a child fighting sleep in exchange for his/her storyteller's words. She told me of her travels all over, far and wide. So why settle here? I had to know, had to hear a flesh and blood reason. "Because it's like no other place on earth." She said. "The way the fir trees stick out from underneath the snow, the people, the sky. Iceland is mystic".