Thoughts on travel photography from the Arctic Circle

From far away, the cold, soft light of the moon cuts across the lake to rest on fresh, fluffed snow. The lake I knew only by name, Torassieppi, disguised as it was beneath winter’s thick, glass ice and glutinous chewy snow. A snort and a puff of ice-crystal air revealed the breath of reindeer, while their wool-bundled passengers found oxygen through mittens and many, many gloves.