On a deep Winter's day in the West Fjords of Iceland, a storm looms just off shore. Snow drifts are measured in feet in this part of the world, a truly rugged and wild place. In Winter, much of the day is spent in the golden hour of light, which contrasts with the long and bitterly cold nights. It's oddly comforting in a way that's hard to describe. There is no light without dark, no joy without pain. I stood above this lonely icy beach until the sun went down, struggling to stay warm, thinking to myself how wonderful and beautiful our little home in the cosmos truly is.