from a lighthouse nestled somewhere in northern Norway, as experienced by Veronica Skotnes during her "The Light Alone" project, which we are supporting. This is a passage from her second-to-last letter, her July snippets.

"...But overall, I’ve found that life as a lighthouse keeper suits me quite well. In fact, I don’t feel a strong wish to return to the world at all. I’m only able to remember things that I miss if I try really hard, because even though I don’t have a café to write in, I can make tea on the stove and bring it up to the lantern room. I can even charge myself an inflated price to do so if I long for the true café experience. Five seashells for a cup of tea, perhaps? The constant rumbling of the waves remind me of the roads in the town, the arguing of the seagulls outside the window are akin to a dramatic soap opera, and the skies are an art museum that always changes its exhibits. I already have the entirety of the world here at the island.

There is always something exciting happening at the lighthouse. The past week, the young seagulls have attempted flying, and I have been glued to the windows with my binoculars to catch their first flights. Some of them are ahead of the others and are already soaring across the waves, while most of them are still on land trying to flap their wings and understand how to take off. They can stay in the air for a few seconds, but have not mastered the landing yet. Can we even begin to understand what an incredible feeling it must be to fly for the very first time? I imagine it must feel a little bit like learning to ride a bike and the immense freedom that comes with it."

photo: a lighthouse in Cape Cod, USA, from my personal archive