"I can't wait to get out of here"
There was an urgency in his voice as each word fell over the other in their daring escape.
There was a genocide in her mouth and it cried for vengeance.
Their solace would not be found.

I never used to pride myself in my use of key-holes but there I was still panting heavily as I witnessed a rainbow of sounds and textures.
A long thin white cloth hung from the ceiling held a noose and inside it was a brush.
A brush I had used the previous day, it was a helping hand for me and the white picket fence had no holes.
A picturesque statue, the famed cat-woman on the prowl searching for her litter.
A generation of blind mole-like creatures had entered the world. Relying on a sense of smell and the colour of life.
They seeded the earth and the earth gave an orgasmic quiver.
Soon s/he would erupt in a violent convulsion of his/her anus.

A penetrative thought entered and searched for a long lost love of words and agility.
I wanted so to reach the finishing line but instead I wasted away with my tea and cakes.
It is such a sad moment when you have to give up your children, even worse when you get nothing but a ball of yarn to comfort you.
The kitten has claws and they tear the flesh, the blood flows freely and organises colonies across my body.
The rhythmical dancing of the tribe shamans build a rising flow of molecules. Outside myself I create a new body, free of thought, emotion and drive.
I pray to thee, I don't know who, Jesus Christ I hope...

It is a tentacle invading every orifice of my cerebral cortex. It mutates my biomechanics so that my electric webbing catches not flies but but but but flutterbies.
The flea may bite and the dog my howl as a cat may sing and a owl will growl.
Exchange of loving sentiments, a mother caressing her sons hair.
Exchange of loving sentiments, a father caressing his daughters hair.
It is a smell I will never forget, a smell you have under your nose at every waking moment and pray it will go away as the aerosol fumes burn your skin. Smoking flesh and still the shaman dances and sings.

She never gave what she got and never loved what she had she never wanted what she hated and continued to prance about and flinging her excrement across her shoulder hoping that it would never reach her god. Her mother of course lent a helping hand and continually bent over backwards and screamed. The god the god the god the god the god the god was mine and mine and mine and mine and his his his his loving loving loving loving loving caressing and making my stutter so much worse. Fuck me and leave me dry so that when the rain finally falls I might finally sprout something other than a decaying body that cannot move a mountain across the vast desert of a growing field.

The cat maliciously chases a mouse, not malicious because she intends to eat it but because the chase is the thrill and it is a never ending pull and grab. The tail never breaks and the hair never rises as high as the clouds gliding across a pale moon sky, dark blue like the deep waters where the fish grow their corn.
A living breathing industry, not breathing air of course but oxygen.
Industrial chemical warfare is not on the hands of the poor or the rich but on the hands of the little cockroaches, little do they know that cockroaches do not die, tests have been made, we have tried stabbing them, hanging, bombing, poisoning and over feeding. Nothing will kill them and they will outlive humans a thousand times over.

As I panted and panted and panted I noticed my pants had not been loosened, the hooker had died from pre-coital exhaustion. The steam built up on the window, it made little droplets and they ran across the window, not vertically but horizontally. The finishing line was the edge of my mouth and as the droplets catapulted away from the window towards my face I took a moment to close my eyes and enjoy the thought and taste of their massacred bodies and lives blood between my teeth. But, alas, faced with the horror of what was to come the droplets changed their trajectory in mid flight and changed position with airborne dust-mites. The taste, I was to find, would be dry, bitter and full of sorrow.

The sorrow had its own colour which tinted the colour of my eyes. No longer were my eyes the shocking grey and yellow but a meld of love, light and peace.
I would never find happiness again.

It was a huge forest that she had been walking through. A long path made out of golden bricks.
The gold was the same kind of gold as his eyes, its eyes, her eyes, their eyes, our eyes, his eyes.
On her way she met a fair few of characters, Webster's creations. She wanted to find Home again.
There were no trees and she had never been mellow. The coloured girls never used to sing so high.
She climbed onto the topmost branch and started to bellow. Her voice flew far above the towers.

"Have I ever been here?" She wondered as the colours spewed from her ears.
The answer didn't come so much as it misted the air. Red, White and Blue.
What is the colour of this forest I ask you now dear reader, if you have it in your minds eye.
It is the colour of sadness yes? it is the colour of bread yes? it is the colour of you mothers lullabies yes?
Blue, Brown and Comfort.
She painted the skies with her gaze and they never looked quite the same.

There are six sexes, sex sixes, sick sexex, sexk sixix. O lover is a lover of a love that's been loved far to many times.
The language of the heart is to be objectified, synchronised, catagorised and liquidated.
For the sake of a socially realistic conformity of a mind that travels the road to... well you know where.
Webster had never intended this had he? I wonder what he would say now? Did he intend on the slavery of our enzymes?
I had looked within myself and seen the face of a maze, it was but a straight line all the way down to the topmost end of my hair.
It lead everywhere in the world.
I've never been to any of those places.

We met on that road, we stopped for a cup of coffee and we had a chat, She and I.
I asked her "Where have you come from?"
She replied "I came from my mother who in turn came from her mother and who came from her mother... it has been a family tradition for centuries."
She asked me "Where have you come from?"
and I replied "my father came and there I was as did his father and there my father was as did his father and then his father was and this has been a tradition for eons."
"It is the way things are yes?"
"quite so."
"How did you come to be in this place?"
"I walked a long way and with every step I took I laid another brick in the bridge that would eventually transport me to a world where the sky seemed to be tainted with gold."


Is this the return to Oz?

She had always wondered about my line of lineage, after about a year of sipping she finally asked me about it.
I had always intended on telling her the next time it was my turn to speak but I had always forgotten how to express my family through my skin.
She laughed and said "yes"
Turns out she's my sister. She's not the sister you all know and love but she is rather my sister as my brother as my mother as my... my... my... my.... mice.

I have this image stuck in my head, it's been there for a long time. I can see myself floating above Reykjavík. I am shining like a star and all the hate and anger and bigotry and death and sickness and envy is flowing into me. I am a converter, I glow as all of these energies flow into my heart and with every fiber of my existence I transform it a healing power. When I have changed all of this energy. I explode and die. The healing energy flows from the point of my death in a shining pink and green and golden wave that travels across the earth. It heals the hearts of everyone it passes giving them the freedom to be open and happy and loving. Every single machine in the world is transformed to become a natural alternative that will keep the earth healthy and the earth is healed as well. Every single animal in the world finds a way to live without killing and every single human in the world sees the truth of life and death and they too find a way to live without killing. As the wave reaches the opposite end of the planet it condenses in a single point and shoots out from the planet to the sun and there it becomes a perpetual fuel source that will give the planet earth sunshine for eternity.

I would be happy but you see there is a house growing in a mouse growing in a tree thats rooted in my brain. There's not enough room for my thoughts and them at the same time. It is quite embarrassing.

Where do emotions live?

We finished our coffees and said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. We have a little sewing thread between us. Short as eternity and long as a second.

It is a joke and as a joke it makes people laugh.

It is a speech and as a speech it gives inspiration.

It is a story and as a story people don't believe it.

It is a lie and as a lie people believe every single word of it.

It is what you make it and as everything you make it's prone to malfunction.

When I reached the forest I climbed to the topmost branch and started to bellow.
The sky never looked quite the same.
The bricks where the colour of his eyes.
There were no trees.
The coloured girls sang
and it was huge.

Today there is a frivolity in our use of words and sentences. people who waste to many words to say very simple things. People also use words rather than just doing what they mean to say.

So I propose an idea!

Today you will make your immediate surrounding world a little bit better, more beautiful and kinder.

Take these sentences:

I love you.

I'm happy to see you.

You look pretty.

You are amazing.

Thank you.

Thank you for being in my life.

I'm glad I know you.

You make my life a better place to live in.


Look at these sentences and really see them, understand what they mean for you.
Now pick one, or make one up and pick a person that you will meet today and say it to them.
This will create positive feelings and therefore make your world a little bit better.

And remember a hug or a kiss or a smile go a long way.

Let's make the whole world better with tiny little efforts.

Thank you for reading this, I'm glad that you did.

~Spookyo_O

It's deep in my memory, a little flower, a little blue flower, blue flower that clings, little blue clinging flower.
He says "butterflies aren't made for walking, they were brought up as an alternative to bees" and I believed it.

They walked with me all the way down to the cellar and there we stood for a while, we watched as the the the, the, the. the.
White screen showed us sweet, bitter and sour all melting together in one colorful harmony. You could almost hear them whispering their secrets.

It was a huge brown staircase and the mould was rapidly climbing up in front of us, when it finally reached our backs. Our backs disconnected with the rest of the reality around us. My back sprouted legs. I had never been so-so-so-so-50-50-50... 50 million little ants are building me a throne, I will reach it one day.

Slow like a wasp. As you saw them on the discovery channel, sucking the honey out of the womb.

"Are you happy?" "I only barely missed it." "Have you ever been happy?" "I once dreamt of verona."

"How is your mother?"

"I never once said thank you, thank you for every single letter in the alphabet!"

"Lovers love, givers give, takers hold and mickey mouse isn't afraid of showing his face here." "He is a good friend of mine, we shared a cab once in my life, his ears are smaller in real life but he doesn't want people to talk about it" "nononononononono"

This isn't happening, the letters are all wrong and I cant get them to fit! My fingers are cold and so are you! I am lost in this sea of uncertainty and I feel I must agree with the big man because futility and eternity are only different by a few letters!

Old habits die hard, the red and blue of my heritage are swirling in my blood, my blood of course being red predominantly pushes aside my colder aspects. Sunlight can bring me into vitality and green can catch it so very well. If my mother had been green she would have seen the world in a much better light. harmony, symphony and tiny little keyholes. My gun is armed and you shall be shot soon, the barrel is aimed and at the back of your head you can feel the pressure mounting, without touching I can see my target, 10.......................................................... 9........................................... 8........................................
7.....................................
6..........................
5.....................
4............
3........
2.....
50 million spider legs sprouting out of the middle of my brain, they search and love and eat and collect and paint and dance and chime like a bell.

It's in the way I look at you, it's the way I touch your face, it's the way I bite your nose, it's the way the tears swell in my eyes, it's in my beauty, it's in my prolonged erection and it's in my premature. Quite happily.

you voice is a spurt of orange and brown, cold colors that give the effect of swimming against a loud current.

Green: "I have never and I never will be violent"
Yellow: "why so negative?"
Green: "Because you persistently copy my personality, you copy me like a 5 year old"
Yellow: "it is only because of my love for you"
Green: "How do you love me?"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like an amazing torrent, more than the rainbow loves the rain and more than an arrow loves blood"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like the multitude of colors in a drunken vomit pool"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Like my mother loved the orgasm that conceived me"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "It is a talent that I have, it gives me the opportunity to fish for sharks with my own flesh"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "Because I was taught to never be wasteful"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "By following the crash instructions on the airplane guide"
Yellow: "How do you love me?"
Green: "The same way you love me"

Violet is a step away from violent and a step away from blue. Containing all the life in the world is water, clear and loving as a chrysalis loves the warm bed upon which it lays.

I come from a country far to the north, it is essentially an island in the middle of nowhere but it is a warm place. My mother lives there and my family lives there and so does my sister, grandmother, grandfather and my cat. This is a lie.

I actually come from a place far to the south, I have never seen snow. I am petrified of dogs. My family is small, there are three of us, when the 3 of us come together we have a beer together and sing songs that I got taught in school. This is a lie.

I tried and I failed but the final product was successful and I regret everything! Eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity was eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity is eternity.

"I never once said thank you, thank you for every single number in the alphabet!"

I was walking, I went to a bar and there was a horse, the horse asked me about my long face and I told the horse about my garden.
The garden was walking and it went to a bar and there was a bee, the bee asked the garden about its long face and the garden told the bee about its stock portfolio.
The stock portfolio was walking and it went to a bar and there was an author, the author asked about the stock portfolio's long face and the stock portfolio told the author about its briefcase.
Now in this briefcase is a world, unlike our own, in this world there is language spoken and understood, in this world there are flowers and mountains and most importantly in this world there is a person.
This person, as it were, had a wife, the wife had children and the children had pets. The pets died. Nobody knew why.
In this bar there was Love, Love had itself a drink as Love tends to do. Love is a 30 year old, Love has a beard, Love has a shiny pen given to it by its mother on its graduation day. Love likes films, films where nobody speaks or moves or even breathes.
The pen was sitting on the table, the pen sings loudly and joyously, the way the pen frowned reminded you of a dream you once had.
In this dream you held hands with destiny and a book, the author's book. The book was called "classic reproductions of Webster's achievements". You were never seen again.

Now, then, have, you, ever, seen, the, pen, on, a, motor, cycle, ?,
A tin with a penny is jumping about on the balcony, there's a howling gale and the sweat is dripping off my shoulders.
Some music that is created
fwoooooosh klingaling fwoooosh klingaling drip drop drip drip fwoooosh clingaling donk donk.
Senselessness deprives the sentient being of its foothold and sends them tumbling down a staircase reserved for the mentally handicapped and pre-op transgenders!

"I have never been so insulted in my life! How dare you insinuate that my breasts are actually non-existent? Do I have to prove myself to you or would it be all right if I just took your hand and led you to la la land where extra-terrestrial offer us what we need?"
"Of course there is the matter of plasticism, science of proctology and the achievement of Webster and his anxieties"
"But of course good doctor, he has never seen the light of day and must thusly know more about the darkness than any of us could ever hope to know"
"Well of course one would assume so but you see that they were never really friends, they only had 2 children and that would hardly count as a relationship"
"of course, one can never be too careful when talking about the sensitive subject of genealogy"

This conversation was overheard by my son, he couldn't remember who said what but his toy box had sworn that none of their members would ever dare utter such words without explicit written permission.

My love for you has not died down and it never will, it will remain through the ages as the trolls are set in stone, eroding but never disappearing and never again sensitive to the sun.

He had never forgiven the sun for what it had done to his flowers, the funeral was embarrassing and the vulgarity of the preachers psalms was borderline enigmatic! He has been suspended and hopes that one day his job will come back from its travels to settle down, when it has found its ribbons again. I'm sure we all agree.

"Have you ever been there then?" "To the briefcase?" "well of course! What else would I be talking about?" "No." "hardly seems to be a broad frame for discussion, barely passes off as a word, much less a sentence!" "I am it, you were never here and they will always bathe in the glory of the author" "it isn't fair is it?" "No." "that's it! Positivity is just what we need for this painting"

"Have you ever been there then?" s/he asked "To the briefcase?" s/he asked "Well of course! What else would I be talking about?" s/he asked "No." s/he asked "hardly seems to be a broad frame for discussion, barely passes off as a word, much less a sentence" s/he asked "I am it, you were never here and they will always bathe in the mistakes of the author" s/he asked "it isn't fair is it?" s/he asked "No." s/he said "that's it! Positivity is just what we need for this painting" s/he laughed

I have never been and nor has the horse, nor has the garden, nor has the bee, nor the stock portfolio, nor the author and never the briefcase. But we would like to go.

The horse bought me a drink, I never tasted a sip of it but it was quite delicious. And when I had finished it I picked up my pen, my briefcase and my wife, her children and their pets and walked out the door.

There was a bar, it was never there but it was always open.

ætli hlutirnir gengu ekki upp af því að við misstum sjónar á okkar eigin sköpunar- og vaxtarferli, við gleymdum listinni sem var okkar byrjunarpunktur?.... pæling.

Bréf til Mömmu

(Blogglesendur, þetta er bréf til Mömmu minnar en mér finst að allir sem ég elska eigi að fá þessi skilaboð frá mér líka =) you know who you are ;P hehehe)


Sæl Mamma mín :) ótrúlega falleg skilaboð og þú skalt fá að vita það að ég elska þig líka!
Ég hef engar áhyggjur, hvernig svo sem braggast úr þessu þá er þetta upphaf nýrra hluta í heiminum, þessi kreppa er um allan heimin og mun valda því að við þurfum sem HEIMSBÚAR að standa saman, skrefi nær heimsfriði! Ameríka mun kjósa Obama að öllum líkindum sem mun vera upphaf nýrrar aldar hjá Ameríku þar sem það er ekki morðóður fáviti í stjórn heldur rétthugsandi minnihluta maður :) Þetta er æðislegt! Ef við þjáumst vegna kreppunar mun það bara kenna okkur nýja hluti um sjálfa okkur og láta okkur einblína á hluti sem skipta máli í lífinu, eitthvað annað en pening pening pening. Jólin Verða yndisleg þar sem við munum ákveða að gefa engar gjafir heldur að nýta þann pening sem við höfum til að vera saman og borða góðan mat og njóta nærveru hvors annars. Ef ég fæ að halda áfram í skólanum þá mun ég bara vera ennþá þakklátari fyrir tækifærið og mun einbeita mér betur og vinna einlægt að honum og ef ekki þá mun það hvetja mig til að leita á ný mið til að öðlast þá þekkingu sem ég þarfnast. Mikilvægasta og magnaðasta listin sem hefur verið sköpuð í heiminum hefur alltaf sprottið uppúr þjáningu og erfileikum þannig að ég vona bara að ég geti orðið hluti af nýrri listbiltingu! :D

Ekki hafa áhyggjur af mér mamma, ég hef fulla trú á því að heimurinn batnandi fari þegar hann missir traustið á peningum.

Ég er hamingjusamur og ég ætla að gera mitt fyrir heimin :)

Ég elska þig og sendu ástarkveðjur, knús og kossa til allra heima (þá meina ég segðu við hvert og eitt þeirra "Hafsteinn Elskar þig"

~Bjartsýnn Haffi

It's like a little leaf, it's blowing in the wind of a huge dark city.
It's very cold but it still floats on.
The leaf is yellow and brown and it's autumn.
It makes music as it gently glides down a wall,
little rasping noises, a noisemaker.
The ground is pavement, thick black oozing blocks of it.
The rain and the light-posts are making a light show.
It is an amazing illusion.

Every drop is electricity, like a lighting it shoots into the ground.
Ink and water, a flowing touch of streams.
Ink and water
Ink and water
Ink and water
Ink and water

It moves perfectly.

Loving little thuds as rubber and stone meet each other.
Loving and caring thuds taking you home.
His fingers are creased and dry. They're in the pockets.
A little note, yellow, blue, glue.
Cold keys next to a warm body.

It's sitting on the train and only seeing your reflection in the glass when you go into a tunnel.
It's seeing a spider-web and decide not to rip it.
It's to deserve a chocolate because you have been diligent on your diet.
It's smoking because you love it.
It's watching horror films to feel safe.
It's kissing someone so that they kiss you back.

Ink and water,
Spirals and solar-flares,
Fiddlers-Green and flowers.

It's having babies because you care for the future in a world that is suffocating.
It's loving honey,
It's hating money,
It's the only rhyme on this page.
It's posting a smiley when your actually not.

I can't sleep, I wanted to go to sleep at ten but it didn't work out :P hehehe.
I googled my name and surprisingly a post on my own blog came up in the search, it was a thank you letter to my current ex (who at the time wasn't my boyfriend yet). He's been on my mind a lot and it's funny how things come up randomly when you think about them a lot (i.e. the old post when googling my own name for fun). I feel pretty lost at the moment... not in the same old sense as when I was a depressive goth person (Glod forbid that I walk those footsteps again) but in a genuinely "trying-to-sort-my-shit-out" kind of way. My efforts to be a good person in order to be happy seem ever fruitless, I have a great life so don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful for everything I have and everyday I realise new things to be grateful for, but I rarely I feel happy. I feel like it's this little worm crawling inside and it just keeps picking at me. Of course being the person I am I talk about what is on my mind (my friends will recognise this and are currently nodding as they read this) but here in-lies the problem! I talk about feeling bad and my little insecurities RELENTLESSLY!!!! much to my friends dismay because as we all know one can only take so much whining before wanting to take a bullet to ones head.

I've been having the strangest dreams recently, the other night I dreamt that I had been fighting with some drama teacher (nameless, faceless) and during the fight I crawled up about two stories of chairs.... so about 30 meters in the air. there I sat down on the top of the chairs where a current flat-mate came up to me and sat down on another line of chairs.... those chairs fell and he crashed down with all the chairs and I just made it to safety.... the morning after at breakfast I told him about the dream but I said that I had caught him at the last moment, I guess the only thing freakier than dreaming your own death is when somebody else dreams it.

I don't know what my ex feels about all of this and I don't understand him at all anymore, I don't know what I meant to him anymore. What was I to him. I know he loved me very much but other than that I'm lost. I hope he is happy, he really deserves to be happy.

I dreamt a bee, a huge centipede-looking bee with a huuuuge stinger flying around me, where it stung me it laid worms into my skin and I had to pick them out with tweezers, some of them broke and I had to dig the tweezers into my flesh to fish out the rest of their worm-bodies. They reminded me of this video I saw on youtube once, this is it if you feel like watching.

I have a hard time focusing, every time I sit down to read, chant or even write this my mind wanders. I start thinking about all these random things like... I don't really know... purple kittens or something. It's infuriating! I might be trying to read a play for school and because I can't possibly focus on the text and what it's saying that reading might take 10 hours. I might try to chant for better focus or courage to take on my weaknesses but instead I waste 90% of that chant to think about what film I want to watch this evening or wether or not this or that classmate actually likes me.

I'm really happy with my new room, it's quite homely, it's got pictures of friends, drawings by my little niece (she's just the awesomest little girl in the world! and way too much like her uncle (me) and mum), teddy-bears and a big poster of the Joker from batman "the dark knight".

The whole reason for this blog is to rant about anything and everything bugging me so I wont have to talk somebody's ears off, if people feel like reading this they can and if not they can stop at any point and just go about their busyness and no-one would be the wiser about it.

Disfunction
Hope/Hopelessness
New beginnings
Sweat
Nerves
Blisters
Kisses-lack of
Hugs-lack of
Belonging-lack of
Grounding-lack of
Future
The dreaded ugly
The hidden land-mines
The not-so-hidden land-mines
Mock Turtle soup
The beep-beep of Nokia

I have a understanding deficiency, I don't seem to be able to understand people, friends and foe alike. Everyone seems nice enough at face value but underneath there's always something brewing. I wish I could read minds, I think that knowing what people think of me (positive or negative) would be a lot better than guessing, seeing that I'm a pessimist by nature the outcome of said guessing would never be very productive.

Funny about the plastics, they are so nice! every single one of them is very nice if you get them one-on-one but as soon as another of their species arrives they turn into something else... something bitchy and "better-than-thou". I don't see the point in it really, they don't even like each other, they bitch about a missing member from the pack as soon as s/he is absent... it doesn't seem to be a very loving friendship. Then again maybe they like the feeling of belonging to a pack, I feel like a lone wolf sometimes :P hehe in the not-depressed kind of way. I have friends and I have acquaintances but rarely do I find a person of like mind or humor as I am, I think I might be a mental blonde.

I know there's more I want to talk about and there's definitely more positive things I could talk about.... but people actually want to hear one talk about those things!

~Spookyo_O textualized

Eddie Izzard- Death Star Canteen

IN LEGOMATION! :D

I ISH OLD! AMMLI! it's my birthday tomorrow (10th of July) Ég vil minna á það að það verður party elli minni til heiðurs a Q bar föstudagskvöldið 11. júlí mæting uppúr níu :D


Þemað er: Haffi, hvernig svo sem þið viljið túlka það ;)

Spookyo_O

Þetta er alveg ÓTRÚLEGA flott!!! (SOOOOO cool!!!)

~Spookyo_O is existential

"sko þetta er soldið þú.."

Sagði unnusti minn.... I feel like a steaming sex machine!!! GGGRRRRRRrrrr....

~Spookyo_O Rumpeltilskin

Og hver man ekki eftir þessum gamla smell?!

Gotta Love it!


~Spookyo_O is feeling silly nilly.

Sometimes when natural victims fight back natural preditors.... they win!

"It's not about who the villains are, It's about who the heroes are going to be."



~Spookyo_O has renewed hope for life.

Haffi með youtube myndband? ÞAÐ GETUR EKKI VERIÐ! :D

Vá maður! Þetta er einhvert flottasta kvikmyndaklipp sem ég hef séð!: http://polpope.deviantart.com/art/THE-BLIND-SPOT-67381815

~Spookyo_O loves film

This is Pina Bausch dance theatre... 'tis be very coooooooooooool! :)



~Spookyo_O wishes he was a dancer.

Hvar er lýðræðið?! hvað er sérstakt við okkar yndislega land og okkar menningu þegar þeir sem eru við stjórnvöl eru að reyna að koma af stað ónáttúrulegri stökkbreytingu sögu okkar?! Viljum við vera Ameríka? Ég vil halda að við séum einstakari en það. Þessi síða er með myndum af húsunum sem á að rífa fyrir græðgina. Þessi hús gera Reykjavík að því sem hún er. Verndum fallegu miðborgina okkar af því að við elskum hver hún er: Einstök!

http://laugavegur.net/

On this page you can see pictures of buildings that are important to Iceland's capital's history, Reykjavík is unique, let's keep it that way!

~Spookyo_O Loves his home.

Þetta er fyrir Örnu mína :P af því að ég elska þig og sakna þín ;)