The Finnish row lands on the first rune, where geography is a diary of the water-mother's gestures. After seven centuries adrift, Ilmatar "begins at last her workings", and every motion leaves a landform: "Where her hand she turned in water, / There arose a fertile hillock"; where she dived, the ocean's deeps; where she turned upon her side, the level banks [The Kalevala, Rune I]. The catalogue ends in the present tense of every sailor: she fashioned the rocks "And the hidden reefs created, / Where the ships are wrecked so often" [ibid.]. Then the summary, in the passive of finished work: "Thus created were the islands, / Rocks were fastened in the ocean" [ibid.]. Thompson's label speaks of footprints of the gods and thoroughfares of heroes — marks left on a landscape. The Finnish page is more radical: there is no prior landscape. The coastline is nothing but the record of a body's positions, and ships on the reefs are still paying for the way she once rested on her back. Fifteen parsed rows sit under this address; this rune is the only one resolved to served text, so the world-catalogue of god-shaped landforms is wiring debt, not evidence.