Smiles are just like foosteps on flagstones - they come and go, tattooed and washed off by water...
The more I walk parallel to the Bressay Sound, the more I seem to lose myself among ghost steps and wish I could find ancient prints.
How many soles have found their twins? How many perished in the mud? ...Leir Vik. A place where stones have found their meaning in water. Warehouses built to suit merchants.
And yet stony staircases lead nowhere.
One way to deal with keeping dry or free of mud. Waterstairs
Behind close doors we undo deals and forge new bonds. We unload goods to please our minds.
... Most probably developed from Old Norse hlað-berg, a projecting pier or (flat) rock where a ship is laden. These were houses and warehouses sitting on their own piers so that goods could be loaded and unloaded directly from the boats.
The last time I wandered along, I found a gannet without life washed on the shore. The tide was dancing with the dead... And saw the sadness in blue eyes.