Veni Viðey Vici.

Posting from Viðey Island.

Reykjavik, Iceland – The rolling green hills of Viðey Island are scarred by jagged stone foundations: the broken bones of a village that died in 1943.

It's as though tic-tac-toe boards have been set into the undergrowth, which sways in the cooling breeze exhaled by the ocean. I've found an oasis just off the shore of Reykjavik.

Evidence of human life here dates back to the tenth century, but the island has been abandoned since a fishing company on the eastern coast closed in the 1940s. The long history speaks through a few rehabilitated buildings and mounds that only whisper the stories held beneath.

Now, birds do most of the talking.

Foundational.

Their squawks break the silence as I step too closely to a nest, leading to a barrage of arrows shot into the sky. It's a scene repeated with each step.

Plovers and gulls chide me for interrupting their time on the beach, blackened by lava. Eider ducks splash past with indifference.

A more modern history is told through contemporary art pieces placed around the island, including Yoko Ono's Imagine Peace Tower and Milestones, by American sculptor, Richard Serra.

After a long travel day, there's nothing like a hike through nature to clear the head.

Especially when it looks like this.