My friend is on an artist residency in Iceland. On the eastern coast, in a town of 665 people.
She sends me the Icelandic version of the script. It features reindeer pizza and Icelandic phrases that don’t translate and Hel, the Norse goddess of death.
I google-image the town. There are picturesque wooden houses and wild coastline and snow and northern lights.
She sends me photos and anecdotes. She tells me about large construction sites that had to be shut down because too many elves were sighted in the area.
A version of this post was sent by email on the 18th November 2018 as part of Internet Care Package – a weekly memoir project in the form of a newsletter. It also includes links to the best things I’ve found on the internet each week and occasional updates on my theatremaking. This blog is a select archive of those emails. Subscribe to get them right in your inbox.