I love Iceland.​​​​​​​
I lived there for two years.
I taught Icelandic at my university.
And this summer I went back and drove around for 10 days in a camper van.
The result is this book.
A collection of photos I took and poems I wrote in Icelandic in a vain effort to capture just a sliver of the most raw, powerful, and beautiful place on Earth.

If I had wings, would I choose to leave the ground?
All I want is to be enough. All I have ever wanted is to be enough.
Sometimes hearts are too heavy to bear and we need someone else to hold its weight for a while.
We want truth, but flinch when we're bitten by her teeth instead of kissed by her lips.
You and me are zippered together. Even when we pull apart we always come back again.
I don't like dancing in the dark. I hit my funny bone too much.
The soft song your lungs sing as you slip into sleep soothes my senses and says to me softly, "now you're safe."
If your mirror becomes your prison then break it. That's why it's made of glass.
You are the safest place for me to be broken.
My roots dug deep to find your core, but all they found was molten metal.
I don't feel enough or feel enough.
I put your fire in my heart so now I am warm no matter where I go.
I keep a lot locked up. There's safety in cages. But there's also atrophy.
As I continue to discover myself, I will give each discovery to you. I will give you all that I am and all that I've yet to find of me.