summer daylight in punta arenas is hard and clean. what is lacked in brightness is compensated for in symmetry; the strait sings quietly, still barely audible at souvenir stands on the plaza de armas. the wind is threaded through mirrored glass, or whatever it is that stands in for the ozone layer in a place so close to passing meteors and the idle threat of a glacial speck of cancer. to climb a concrete staircase is to move both forward and backward vis a vis the promise of antarctica.

travel tips: cross magellan in the rain to hide from giants when the sun sparks fires at their feet, know that seasons are inverted in pursuit of static, scale tracks built of failed revolutions in the mountains. find shackleton and buy him a drink. learn croatian.

a city of grey bricks and measured breath, inhaling the memory of snow, exhaling its anticipation.