There are lots of things on the fjord like the rocks and the puffins. And ice, lots of ice. Gudmensdottír is very interested in the fjord because it is very quiet for her there. The ice is very nice to look at as well. Maybe, it is an obsession with the ice or the puffins. If she is looking for a place that is quiet, though, the fjord would be a good place for that. 

Gudmensdottír is very happy with what she is doing. She could spend her lifetime in the fjord. She is very lonely, but everyone here is lonely because there is no one else. At least she can watch the grass grow very quickly as grass does, and the borealis in the wintertime. In winter the sun never comes up, and in the summer the sun never goes down. The birds on the fjord don’t stop flying for an entire season because of this. They have secretly built small braces for their wings so that they can fall asleep and still glide through the air. If you start at the top of the atmosphere, then you have a long glide down. 

The puffins, though, cannot fly. It is somewhat of a curse for them to not fly because all of the gulls and the seabirds can. But they also don’t have to wear the wing contraption. They can spend their time working on their voices, which they fine tune to lure out the worms, which they use to lure the fish. It would be much more straightforward for them to practice luring the fish first, but the puffins are nonsensical. They simply are. 

The quietness is sometimes interrupted by the slightest bit of sunlight. Gudmensdottír hides herself from the sunlight because is a cancerous being; it causes cells to degenerate and form dangerous clumps of flesh. In the foggy mornings and afternoons she is able to go and walk with the puffins. She puts them on leashes made of grass and small herbs and walks them around the fjord. Gudmensdottír helps them to cut off chunks of clear ice from the top of the cave and they use it to mold the mouths of their babies. The puffins are not born with a beak, it must be molded into shape by cutting triangular pieces of ice and putting it between the teeth and the lip, and then splashing hot water on it to make it hard. 

Another activity is launching dead grubbs at the sun. Since the sun is cancerous, the dead grubbs turn into fat black blobs and become fuel for Gudmensdottír’s fire pit. She has a large fire pit next to her grass hut where she cooks the grass to eat. It is very nutritious on the fjord because there have never been pesticides or invasive species. The grubs make terrible fuel compared to ice but they do the job and it is better if they are dead and crisped by the inferno than alive and eating grass. 

There are many types of grass that Gudmensdottír cultivates on the fjord, such as lemon grass and long grass. The lemon grass often dies because there is barely any sun and all of the fumes from the dead grubbs. When the sprigs of lemongrass die she makes a sculpture out of ice from the cave that is shaped like the old grass so that the long grass is not lonely in its increasingly homogenous grass landscape.