It’s no mystery, for those who know me, that my realm is a realm of ice. It is a world I will never abandon until we will all be abandoned. In this white, crystal-like world, an incredible, silent army of white beings live.

They are perfectly adapted to the most inhospitable place on the planet. Their colour makes them blend effortlessly into the background, and only a few marks in china ink adorn their features. They have thick fur, and can live down to minus 70 degrees. In the deepest south, the world of penguins – the birds that cannot fly.

In the far north, a multitude of odd characters seemingly out of a Tolkien novel or a Chris Weitz film. Soft figures of white, sometimes furtive, sometimes imposing. For a long time, I felt like a curious intruder, but today, several years later, I feel drawn closer and closer to them…

From Into the White, by Nico Zaramella