VĂ„rvindar friska

Because it reminds me of the good things in my past – playing the guitar with a friend while singing the German version of this song horribly out of tune (to quote my little sister: she said something along the lines of “the two of you are singing three voices”), riding without saddles on ponies in the forest on a stormy day, meeting a guy friend of mine in a pub to practise talking English, singing and playing Irish songs in a small room at church after youth service on Saturday nights.

And the song fits the mood of one (emotional) landscape in my fictional world. The rider at night, watching the northern lights on the heath, following the polar star, and sleeping under a roof of reed to wake up in cold morning sun over foggy moorlands a day’s ride from home. She could have been me.