Farewell Asia, Hello Europe.

My, aren't you dark and cold? December 2019

Here, in the town at the end of the world*, where the railway and road run out of room and the sea has a beginning, the light is always magically special. This is the land of skies and seas, of wind and weather. The clouds here are a language of their own, telling stories as old as the very air itself. At this time of year, the sun barely manages to pull herself above the long line of the horizon — she is tired and needs her sleep after seemingly-endless bright summer parties when she provides enough daylight to read outside all the night through.