On the verge of returning to Iceland (or Ísland in icelandic) I felt the need to return to it, to my old photos of it and the many more images I had in my mind, and what in the island resonates in my head.

Much about Iceland has to do breathtaking landscapes, the pretty sunsets that put the sky on fire, all the variety of different waterfalls you find while driving the Route 1, the epic glaciers that slowly release ice diamonds into the sea. All that is true, and stunning, and beautiful, and makes you want to drive said Route 1 over and over again, but in the end it’s not what created a soft spot in my heart. It’s the pretty scenes you can spot from the window while drinking a cup of coffee, where you can see a fjord or a nameless waterfall from a living room; and it’s about the small things, small as in the quirky details you find over and over, and the island is so full of them, but also small as in the scale that makes things feel tiny and sparse scattered.