Kemst þó hægt fari

Autumn swept ruthlessly across, and in between, the dormant volcanoes on the mythical island of Iceland, leaving nothing but five sets of wet footprints in the mud behind us. It was magical. Imagine your breath being taken away from you for a whole week. Ripped out of your throat. Beauty on repeat. Exhausting. Thrilling. The roaring, volcanic mountains and the nothingness of the flatlands. Water so clear you could count the coins people had thrown in it wishing for love and happiness and wealth. You could almost see their desperate fingerprints on the silvery metal. I've never experienced alluring rain storms like that or felt such clean rain hit my face. How could I possibly explain it? And as the thousands of rives twirled and swirled their way across extreme contrasts, much like these veins of ours, I couldn't help but feel smaller than ever before. And in a weird way it felt like home. Cold. Wet. Contradicting. Perfectly imperfect. I must go back.

See more of my pictures on Pinterest! And while you're there, please listen to Ask Embla – Einn

Quote: Íslands, Landsbókasafn (1980). Translation: Kemst þó hægt fari - You will reach your destination even though you travel slowly.