Reykjavik_Erik 的故事
Born in Reykjavik on January 22nd, 1983 — the day Iceland's only volcano erupted near my hometown.
My mother was airlifted out of our village by helicopter, gave birth in the capital while looking out the window at a sky full of ash. She named me Erik — after Eric the Red, because she said only a child of fire deserved that name.
I work as a guide on the same volcano now. Every January 22nd I climb to the crater alone and shout my own name into it.
It always echoes back. I'm not sure if that means I'm still alive — or that the volcano is.
My mother was airlifted out of our village by helicopter, gave birth in the capital while looking out the window at a sky full of ash. She named me Erik — after Eric the Red, because she said only a child of fire deserved that name.
I work as a guide on the same volcano now. Every January 22nd I climb to the crater alone and shout my own name into it.
It always echoes back. I'm not sure if that means I'm still alive — or that the volcano is.
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