CUSTODIANS ALL
A MARK TO OFFER IN KIND
SIMPLY PASSING THROUGH

I had returned to Iceland a year after my first, wonderous late-autumn visit. It was now early summer, and I found myself on the black, sandy shores of a spectacular glacier lagoon.

I was sharing the early morning light with two or three like-minded photographers. Together, we were bearing witness to a grand flotilla of beautiful, icy monoliths drifting down from a mountain glacier in the far distance. A few years earlier they had separated from their glacial home of a thousand years or so. This was their final journey: only a short distance to travel now before their ultimate demise in the crashing Atlantic waves.

I felt the silence, the calmness, and the solemnity surrounding them as they slowly floated along.

I was watching the end of life.