The Soft Drama of Retreat

Fog becomes a main character. Moss puts on an emotional glow. Light slants in with cinematic intensity. The weather is bipolar again. More than before. Everything is mildly heartbreaking. But it was known to come,

and that’s how we like it.

That's a combination of words I put together about the forceful transition into Icelandic winter. September-October might be my favourite time here because of this violent bipolarity of colour and light. So don't ask me when the best time is to come here. Now you know.

Eyes

Eyes are great. Some of us have one, most of us have two. These sheep have lots. And they have seen even more.

At the end of every summer, after they've been all over Iceland looking for all the new angles to experience this overly experienced land, the sheep are brought back home by their farmers so they can tell the world of their findings. Before most of them are turned into parts of Christmas tradition.

These are some of the originalest explorers of Iceland. The true eyes of the landscapes. Many of the most deeply hidden gems that now have easy 5-step descriptions of how to get there, or google maps pins to follow to them, were originally found by these sheep, and later by their farmers when coming to get them in autumn. Way before we instagrammed them to the masses.

So after 10 years of living here, I finally went to my first Réttir, or the gathering of these sheepees. I put on my most Icelandic sweater to blend in, asked one of the farmers if I could help him catch his sheep, and ran into the mosh pit. Coming from the rock and heavy metal scene, this was quite familiar. Except here I was tall, a great advantage in navigating this mayhem of wool. Grabbing my two cameras that the local kids called "that's sooo big, it must be what they shoot real television with", I started swinging away.

This photo is the result of the battle. The eyes that have seen all.