Sixteen years ago I drove around South Iceland and photographed. Made a few prints in a darkroom somewhere in downtown Reykjavík. Among others, one of this waterfall. Put them in envelopes and applied at art schools.
Still think about who he was and which photos he sent in an envelope the guy I met on the stairs on my way to the interview, he who sat and held his head in his hands and who I never saw again while getting accepted myself, increasingly more to my surprise as time goes by and I think back on the photographs in my envelope.
(Initially written in my native language. Not my best translation.)