Driving eastward, the scenery shifts to vast lava fields carpeted in soft green moss. The Eldhraun lava field, created by a devastating eruption in 1783, now lies quiet – an undulating plain of pillow-like moss mounds stretching as far as the eye can see. It’s as if you’ve entered a Dr. Seuss illustration or an alien planet. The ground bounces slightly underfoot, centuries of moss cushioning the once-sharp lava rocks. Here and there, tiny purple arctic flowers peek through, proving that life reconquers even the harshest terrain. Silence dominates; when you stop the car and step out, you hear nothing but the gentle whisper of wind across the moss. This place invites contemplation.

You wander a few steps from the roadside into the mossy expanse. The silence is absolute – you can hear your own heartbeat. Kneeling down, you press a hand into the spongy moss. It springs back, resilient. You recall an old interview where Björk spoke of camping alone in such places as a teenager, finding freedom under the open sky. Lying back, you let the landscape cradle you. No human in sight, only endless green and grey. Overhead, clouds drift. You hum Björk’s “All Neon Like,” a lullaby-like song from Homogenic that feels like moss: soft, enveloping, ancient. “I’ll heal you…” the melody promises. Eyes closed, you imagine the ground remembering the fire that created it, and the peace that followed. This lava field, once a fiery river of destruction, is now a tender garden of moss – a living timeline of Iceland’s rebirth.

 Iceland’s rugged landscapes deeply influenced Björk’s psyche. She has often championed the preservation of the highlands and mossy wilderness, calling them sacred. “When I was a teenager I used to hitchhike and camp… It was my ideal freedom… There’s a sacredness that comes with this landscape,” she recalled, defending these untouched areas from heavy industry. In the Biophilia project, Björk merged music with natural phenomena – one song even mimics the structure of crystal growth; another, the quiet violence of a virus. It’s the same creative ethos you feel standing in Eldhraun: the interplay of destruction and creation. Listen to “Aurora” (her hymn to the goddess of dawn and shimmering lights) or “Hollow” (with its deep, earthy choir) while here. The moss absorbs all sound, so Björk’s voice in your earbuds becomes the sole soundtrack to your exploration.