The novel keeps reminding us about the perceived duality of the universe: heaven and hell, good and evil, life and death, land and ocean, love and hate. And yet even on a rocky island such as Iceland you find that nothing is in black and white. One can die a thousand times before their actual body expires, they can live through others long after passing, they can find warmth in the coldest of winters, they can love and keep their innocence even through the darkest of times. The universe keeps folding in on itself in this book and the only thing carrying the boy along is the passage of time. In a way, the linear story (the Word) is the "thread that quivers eternally between good and evil, sky and land, Heaven and Hell".

A fitting heartbreaking ending for a wonderfully written trilogy.

“We never know which way life will go, don’t know who will live and who will die, don’t know whether the next greeting will be a kiss, bitter words, a hurtful gaze; someone doesn’t take care, forgets to look to the right and is dead, and then it’s too late to take back harsh words, too late to say sorry, too late to say what matters, and what we wanted to say but couldn’t due to annoyance, the weariness of everyday life, time constraints, you forgot to look to the right and I’ll never see you again and the words you spoke to me will reverberate within me all my days and nights, and the kiss you should have received dries on my lips, becomes a wound that rips open every time someone else kisses me.”