When you’re there, you’re somewhere. Really. That’s the point. When this was an active farm, its location wasn’t referenced to Fáskrúðsfjörður or Reydarfjörður (as here) or anywhere else in the East. It was here.
The open gate, the graveyard arch, such honour, the road still used though the turf house is gone, the flowers blooming, the sea coming in gently, the willows opening up. Such welcome!