call of the

north

It’s night-time in an icy wasteland. Massive mountains, fast winds, the snow whipping around your face. It’s freezing. It’s a steep upwards climb and the higher you get the more you lose sight of the black, freezing ocean that’s nearby. I see ‘you’ or ‘me’ I suppose, wearing leather and fur garments. I can smell it, but barely. An animalic scent coming off the clothes is the one of the only things detectable at close range.

 The song smells like salt water, feels like an icicle on warm fingertips, and sounds like howling arctic winds. At the top of the mountain dance strange white and blue lights. It’s not the northern lights, it’s something else. It feels more tangibly other worldly. Like you’re not making up the magic, it’s right there and you’re so close to touching it. I hear snow crunching beneath shoes and see twinkling stars above.