The Salmon Úa (after Laxness)
30 x 40 cm / Acrylic on Canvas
It was no more than a month to the solstice, night in the northwest would soon become morning in the southeast, yet the electric light coming through the door behind the woman did not affect the natural light. When the lid was removed, this light glistened on the contents of the box. The light shone dazzlingly on the material that filled the box to the brim, and glittered like a terrible jewel, larger than if all the principal diamonds in the world were put together. It was a frozen block.
The ice had certainly started to thaw considerably, as was said before, after many hours of transportation in the above-zero temperature of the lowlands, and had started to come away from the rims of the container. They turned the box upside down so that the contents came free. Now one could see through the melting ice, and it was clear that this long, gleaming, and translucent block housed a most beautiful salmon. A fish of this size has been lost by all great anglers, and they never forget it afterwards.
When the winter-pasture shepherds had overturned this moist ice-block at the woman's feet, they threw the packing out onto the paving and the Icelanders collected the debris. Helgi of Torfhvalastaðir took the wood for later use, while the poet Jódínus secured the zinc.
Halldór Laxness / Chapter 37 (part) of Under the Glacier (Kristnihald undir jökli) / The Veranda Continued: Night
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