LETTER: In search of Alaska’s silence

LETTER: In search of Alaska’s silence

The shop near my London flat sells Scottish salmon under a light that makes it look fresher than it is. I buy it. It is fine. Now and then they carry Alaska salmon, and I notice the price first, the distance second: thousands of miles and a markup riding along with them. I usually put it back. Paying a stranger to ship me something I once had for free feels like pretending. Up there the sea was close enough that the fish still tasted of where it