This photographic project was born in an unexpected way. My wife, Álfheiður, revisited Þórshöfn, her father’s village in the far north-east of Iceland. She intended to repair the cross that marks the location of her grandmother’s grave in the cemetery seven kilometers from the village. After taking care of her grandmother’s grave, Álfheiður wanted to see the house where her grandparents had lived. The owner, an elderly single named Agnar, opened the door and invited her for coffee. In closing her eyes, she imagined the kitchen as it was 40 years ago, with its smells – a mixture of coffee, dried...
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