Tag Archives: Westfjörds

Fjöll, Fjöll, Fjöllum og Fjalla

I somehow found a way to make up for my lack of climbing trees as a child by climbing the mountains here in Iceland. There is something deeply ethereal about the summits of them, as if you’re breaching upon the … Continue reading

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A Soft Newton’s Cradle

I watch a bird in the distance as it befriends the wind. Long, slender feathers reach up to touch the breeze, like jet clouds cutting into the sky’s periwinkle flesh. The bird whispers into the sky, the breeze dips down … Continue reading

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