Today, the oldest remnants of the opening of the North Atlantic stand still. The years of erosion have removed all surface features and revealed their inner chambers. Never to erupt again, the Scottish volcanoes tower above the landscape like silent monuments to magma.

The older we get, the more stories we have to share. Rocks are no exception: the oldest ones remember a time before plate tectonics was even a thing.

Was the Hadean really that hellish? The clues to what the Earth looked like shortly after her formation are hidden in the oldest minerals…

Rocks on Paper has come a long way from its humble beginnings. Over the past few months, I’ve been working on a complete redesign of the logo and colours to reflect the new era of my small business.

Before I set my foot on Eyjafjallajökull, I’d imagined it as a rugged landscape full of exposed bare rock. One thing I had never expected to find on the flanks of an active volcano was a diverse and thriving ecosystem full of life.

After six long hours of walking, we finally made it to Landeyjahöfn. It was 5 am and the sun had risen. Arctic terns were flying above our heads. I collapsed on a bench. I was so happy to be there. Exhausted but happy.

All of these rocks were telling a story. Like a time machine, they transported me to the moment of their creation. It was a complex story of an intricate interplay of volcanic activity and Iceland’s changing climate.