Sheep are foresters here.
Svartifoss, the Black Falls of Skaftafell National Park. Such a lovely rhyme scheme of basalt crystals.
Even sneakier when the water first shows itself, the tease.
One of the sacred spaces of the world, for sure. It doesn’t reveal itself all at once.
What do volcanoes dream of? (Let’s face it, they sure do dream.)
Why, heading a football for the national team, of course.
Sometimes you have to wait for the team to come, though. Sidelined on a bench. That’s the danger of being an ogre. Well, you take it in stride, right?
It’s hard for a land to evolve into human society, but it’s inspiring that it’s giving it a good Icelandic try!
The smiths of Old Norway could never have pulled it off so well.
And drinking glasses, too. Skold!
Well, you can’t beat rain, snow, ice and muck, but you can be cleverer.
Note that in Reykjavik, if you park your car just right, at least one passenger (your sweetie, maybe?) can get in and out with dry feet. Now, that’s true love.
Iceland has one of the highest divides between wealthy and poverty people in the world. One result is that private construction is improvised and not meant to last.
While government construction is sturdy and maintained.
The Church at Borg
This is not new. Private, circa 1945:
Looking out from the Harpa Concert Hall over the New Harbour in Reykjavik
Well, OK, government-financed completion of failed rich man’s extravagance. That’s part of the picture, too.
The sky cries tears in Iceland. Viennese waltzes warping in a banana box in a window, old hi-fi junk, and all the books of the world wash up on the shore otherwise called Hverfisgata.
Not much different than a knot of broken fishing nets and cast-off plastic knocking against the knees of kelp-eating sheep, really.