This travel journal, in its simplest form, is nothing but a long-winded travel narrative
which was probably written by the writer for the writer.
It is a humble account of the Iceland leg of my trip,
which holds a special place in my heart.
It was also a trip which I decided to make at a major crossroad of my life.
Penning down the details of the trip together with my uncollected thoughts also required
much discipline, as it required recalling the minute details as the journey continue continued to unfold -
hence i was playing catch up with time.
Yet, the journal was my output of the trip, and carried with it considerable significance.
It would likely be a piece of lengthy, boring writing,
since the imagery of the places that I visited, can only
Manifest in your mind, based on my feebly limited description.
Too little description, and it becomes sketchy.
Too much description, and it feels like a harangue.
Perhaps the passing thoughts, falling off my mind,
Like orange leaves off a tree of autumn,
Would serve to the moment
For that cursory glance .