A photo-post about longing for the brutal sorcery of Iceland in winter; churning currents tearing through thick ice, a sunrise threatening transient crystalline worlds, and watching cerulean-static infinity unfurl over the torrent from the top of a dangerous mountain.
I spent my winter holiday in Iceland – the place I’d been dreaming of for the better part of decade. With new year’s eve approaching, I stocked up on cold-weather gear, packed a minimal photo-configuration, and set off for the frosty shores of the North Atlantic Ocean. We set up base in Reykjavik, where the capital’s crowning jewel is Hallgrímskirkja – a brutalist spaceship of a church that’s visible from miles away. It greeted us everywhere we went, accordion wings peeking around corners, steeple waving …