If you enjoy The Legend of Zelda, we highly recommend this book!
“I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down
the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with
both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a
younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight
that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to gods, loved
women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have
heard of me.”
While Skellig Michael didn’t happen because of high winds, I was still able to make it to Kerry Cliffs, which are basically the next best thing. The landscape is heavily reminiscent of Ahch-To, and it’s a truly epic environment. The winds were so strong that I felt in danger of being blown right off the cliff edge!
There was a heavy mist so we couldn’t see the Skelligs in the distance, but it added to the mystical vibe. I’m determined to come back and make the crossing next time!
Traveling in Iceland gave a unique and wonderful experience of isolation, as though exploring on another planet. Léa and I spent two weeks traveling by camper van in the midst of an Icelandic winter. Living out of a van with limited wireless connection welcomed us to go days without human contact. Bitter winds, epic storms and icy roads constantly tested our minds, bodies and spirits. When the clouds parted to reveal the rugged landscapes and dramatic sunsets, we experienced it from a profound and new perspective.
Please enjoy this video of Iceland in full HD and with good speakers! Also, please like/comment/share to support my future travels and more videos like this!! Thanks :)
This video couldn’t have been made without the positive support of Léa Lefeuvre ! She was by my side while flying, keeping my hands warm, holding equipment, making food, and taking tons of photos!
Thank you to GO Campers Iceland for hooking us up with a wonderful camper van.
“My name is Kvothe, pronounced nearly the same as "quothe.” Names are important as they tell you a great deal about a person. I’ve had more names than anyone has a right to. The Adem call me Maedre. Which, depending on how it’s spoken, can mean The Flame, The Thunder, or The Broken Tree. “The Flame” is obvious if you’ve ever seen me. I have red hair, bright. If I had been born a couple of hundred years ago I would probably have been burned as a demon. I keep it short but it’s unruly. When left to its own devices, it sticks up and makes me look as if I have been set afire. “The Thunder” I attribute to a strong baritone and a great deal of stage training at an early age. I’ve never thought of “The Broken Tree” as very significant. Although in retrospect, I suppose it could be considered at least partially prophetic. My first mentor called me E'lir because I was clever and I knew it. My first real lover called me Dulator because she liked the sound of it. I have been called Shadicar, Lightfinger, and Six-String. I have been called Kvothe the Bloodless, Kvothe the Arcane, and Kvothe Kingkiller. I have earned those names. Bought and paid for them. But I was brought up as Kvothe. My father once told me it meant “to know.” I have, of course, been called many other things. Most of them uncouth, although very few were unearned. I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to Gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me.“
If a man is only as good as his word, then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours.
The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian in the same sentence— that really turns me on. The way you describe the oranges in your backyard using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath. I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue wrapping around your diction until listening become more like dreaming and dreaming became more like kissing you. I want to jump off the cliff of your voice into the suicide of your stream of consciousness. I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die. I want to map it out with a dictionary and points of brilliant light until it looks more like a star chart than a strategy for communication. I want to see where your words are born. I want to find a pattern in the astrology. I want to memorize the scripts of your seductions. I want to live in the long-winded epics of your disappointments, in the haiku of your epiphanies. I want to know all the names you’ve given your desires. I want to find my name among them, ‘cause there is nothing more wrecking sexy than the right word. I want to thank whoever told you there was no such thing as a synonym. I want to throw a party for the heartbreak that turned you into a poet. And if it is true that a man is only as good as his word then, sweet jesus, let me be there the first time you are speechless, and all your explosive wisdom becomes a burning ball of sun in your throat, and all you can bring yourself to utter is, oh god, oh god.