Someone left the gate open and when I looked, the Unicorn was gone ...

Gone! On a grey day. Gone!

Down the grey street in the grey part of town. What a sight it must have been ...

Great mirrors direct fifteen beams of light to meet the low hanging cloud.

Buried beneath the beams are over a million written wishes gathered by Yoko Ono, and carved around their stone base are the words 'Imagine Peace' in twenty four different languages.

This twenty first century pharos stands sentinel over the playground but not over the children. They're not here ... it's already dark and the rain is freezing. It stings any exposed flesh and it smells, very slightly, of eggs!

Iceland is built on a great layer of breadrock. At times it bursts through the suburban greenery to reveal itself in all its majesty.

The suburbs are full of bus stops. Some are littered with the detritus of the hidden people, they use the buses to get themselves to the city centre where they go about their grey business ... the business of servicing tourists.

And all of a sudden we can see Baldur and Trostan, we smile at Finnlaug and Hermina as they go about their business of making our business easier. These are not the hidden people of Icelandic folklore. They are real  people ... just hidden away ... and so it is, the world over!

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