It was quite a relief to leave Sandgerði every second weekend. That was when we got paid, and if it wouldn’t have been for our roommate, who had a place in Reykjavik, we would have been stuck at the village pub where not even the cigarette smoke would kill the fishy mist that covered the village. Our roommate was even more heavyhearted than I, but he enjoyed our company. I assume he didn’t have to think his ordinary thoughts. We shared some dreams, too, without actually knowing what they meant. I for sure had no clue what would become of me, who ever does at that age. I still haven’t, though, but that’s another story.