Steve Ersinghaus’s poem for this day, the poem I can never remember, part 1 made me think of this image, taken at a small fishing village in Grundarfjörður, the central point of the Snæfellsnes Peninsula.
While an early, cold, snowy dusk closed the day, I became entranced with the idea of creating a series of poetic images. Yet, when I look at them now I feel disappointed. I thought I captured something more poetic. To me, while this could tell a story of runners under an Asian moon, I forgot what I initially saw.