An island expelled by fire in the midst of the North Atlantic waters, empty and desolate, strange, arousing the curiosity of biologists and geologists and fascinates science fiction makers.

   A land that made Jules Verne use one of its dormant volcanoes as an outlet to explore the interior of the Earth

its interior plateaus.

   Lands scattered by the winds, scorched by volcanoes and frostbite, and turned barren and barren overlooking wide flat plains, inundated with ponds and lakes, interspersed with volcanoes, and erupting springs of water and hot steam.

    Heights overlooking cliffs, from which waterfalls descend, racing towards discontinuous coasts shrouded in mist, and from which some mammals and birds take refuge.

    Phenomena in which everything seems to be brimming with life, and in which the earth itself appears alive and breathing.

    A land that appears to be calm and calm, deathly cold, while its interior is boiling from excessive heat and flames.

    A land that calls for contemplation of the first manifestations of life, its resurrection from death, the continuity of its development and the uninterrupted change of its shape.

 Iceland, the land of ice and fire