Somebody offered me a fjord today.
Or even more than one.
"Good luck Monique - if you need anyone to design the fjords, let us know." (An e-mail from a person I have never met.)
I think I do. I never made a fjord myself and what would this new continent be without fjords?
I bet canals won't do, too straight. Some rivers might be good but why would you want rivers when somebody offers you a fjord?
I will accept. And ask if they will make it there and bring it over here or build it on the spot.
Is there a handbook for the construction of a fjord?
So many things I do not know. But some I do. I once lived at a fjord. It wasn't long ago. A mountain in my back. The water, sometimes black, on other days the color of the eyes of someone dear to me, sometimes a silvery shining like a treasure, copying the sun, the stars, the darkness.
I felt safe and small. I didn't dare to swim in it. I talked to it (I didn't really but ever since I read a poem to a river there's an urge to talk to water, let my words sink in a see-through shiny world. To drown their meaning.)
Many things I do not know. But some I do. I'd like to know where they learned to design a fjord. And if there is a way to learn this skill myself.
If you read this, please let me know.
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