Quatre saisons en Islande
When you live in a city, you can lose all notion of the seasons: spring may be too subtle or autumn evanescent. This would be unheard of in Iceland, as portrayed in photos and words by journalist Olivier Joly. Frozen in winter monochrome, the sky streaked with the northern lights, the island unfolds into the vibrant hues of summer, the midnight sun, the torrential waters after the thaw. Then comes autumn, the lava fi elds, the russet-colored heath. When the polar winds have locked down the highlands, it will be time to reopen this book.