Where I dream about when I dream about mountains is Utah and Georgia. You: Georgia, Iceland. We’ve both dreamed a bear ranging the forested slope out the windows above the old house’s kitchen table. But when I look at your glaciers it’s my mountains I must map back, when I pour into the crucible of me what was drawn from the crucible of you. This is sibling, spectacle.
Over the years I’ve come to realize that I’ve never seen Georgia, not really, that it was dreamt for us by mothers endemic to the land. Utah, a wholly secular This is the place that awaited my invention. Iceland… time and space will tell. Sister, your map precedes my Iceland.
