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This Is My Office

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I am sitting in a well-lit office over-looking Faxafloi Bay, and I can scream "This is my office" as much as I want. As the occasional car passes through the rainy darkness of this late Reykjavík morning, it occurs to me that not only does Iceland afford us the cleanest air in the world, it gives us plenty of space in which to enjoy it.

Of course, this is mainly because the other journalist took a flight to Florida and didn't return. My Icelandic friends are jetting to Berlin. The co-workers who have children are horribly sick. I am sitting peacefully because I'm the last one standing.

Thus I have an enormous workload at the moment. And yet, with nobody around, and with so much darkness and so many lamps and lights on, there are moments when I stare at the pages in front of me and realize I've been listening to the hum of the lightbulbs for five minute stretches. BC [email protected]

Views expressed here are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Iceland Review.