Frozen by the sun

The first time I saw the coast of Vík, my mind struggled to process such beauty. A powerful energy had once swept through the place, leaving its mark in every detail — in the black sand, in the restless sea, and in the cliff face itself, its dark basalt twisting against the waves, alive with the calls of seagulls and puffins. Time itself seemed to pause so that every synapse could fire at full speed, trying to take it all in.
On Víkurfjara beach, my eyes wandered endlessly, unable to settle anywhere. Yet somehow, what I captured was the Reynisdrangar — the sea stacks that, according to legend, were trolls turned to stone by the sun as they tried to drag a ship ashore — a fragment of a scene far greater than any single frame could hold.