Without regret

Vik, a tiny town at the southern tip of Iceland, boasts a famous cluster of cliffs and stacks called Reynisdrangar visible from the expansive black beach, permanently obscured by a fog of sea spray that engulfs the entire coast with an inpenetrable, milky lens. The beach probably knows no such thing as a breeze, its entire length misted with a haze stirred wildly by the turbulent open water that crashes heavily onto the rugged Icelandic coastline, wild as her violent geologic past. Braving the biting wind that makes even opening the eyes a painful struggle, and then in a moment, drawing in deeply, the cold, damp Icelandic air - it leaves you wanting, feeling small, weak, afraid.