I have been thinking about danger recently.
One evening I was preparing my journey (checking airport baggage requirements and limits, planning how to get from Manchester airport to my accomodation, printing out maps, writing to various institutions about hotel check-in, public transport specifics etc.).
Suddenly, I shuddered and a weird feeling crept up my spinal chord to whisper deadly threats to my ears. It was fear.
Photograph captured by Roman Kim.
I was leaving my work at quite a late hour that night. Suddenly, Brno seemed too cold and too dark to feel safe in. The fear still growing in my mind and body, I imagined what could happen to me. Alone in Manchester at night. Alone in Iceland for a week.
What is worse though? Pain, death? Or the torture of the mind, the memories, mistakes and sadness that will eventually catch up with me in the silence of my solitude? The former is bad, but the latter is worse.
What is amazing though, is that I am looking forward to this torture.
In my current state, I have no time and no space for mourning. When melancholy comes, I put it aside, because it is not okay to cry when people are around (and they are always around) and I have a job to attend to. Of course, this is not a healthy attitude. One should be able to face one´s sadness, shake hands with it and cry together for as long as it is needed.
So, what will happen to me?
To be honest, I do not know. But I think the real reason I go to Iceland is to embrace my sadness. And cry a lot.