Above 70°, silence and colors take on a life of their own. Time moves at a different pace; nothing is sudden. The lack of relief, the absence of trees allow one to see everything coming, as if it were predestined.
The land is frozen so solidly that it neither yields nor takes back.
It is perhaps for this reason that souls, dancing in the sunlight, paint long-lasting sunsets or wander with the wind over the ice fields.
Silence is not empty; everything is present. Every moment has left a trace, but in the encompassing peace, sounds become unnecessary. Even as life has deserted the landscapes, all remains like immobile testimonials; like open books for the journeyman.