Stapafell, Iceland, photo by Christian Bickel

If I imagine my soul, as I do when I pray, it’s shaped like Stapafel.  No change of place or religion can alter that.  I lived beneath Stapafel from the hour I was born until I was sixteen.  I’ve never seen it since, but that doesn’t matter.  My soul is in the likeness of a jagged peak with a rock like a man standing on its summit, and snags of rock shaped like trolls along its spine.  Screes defend it, although it’s not quite inaccessible if you know the way up.
~ Margaret Elphinstone
(The Sea Road)