He told me he overwintered twice in the Arctic, alone in a tent. When I asked if the solitude and elemental isolation got to him he seemed unfazed and instead described the privilege of being able to observe such a dynamic place in its many moods, only him and a sea of ice and snow. He explained the dark of winter, how the air would freeze, any moisture turned into flecks of ice floating around him, glittering in his light on nights as still as breath. I imagine him out there, the only light for countless horizons, peering around at magic in the air.