(A night inside a glass igloo beneath the Northern Lights)

Snow below, stars above — and the sky dancing just for me.

I’d seen photos. I thought I knew what to expect.

But nothing prepares you for lying in a glass igloo

in the heart of the Arctic —

snow all around, stars above, silence within.

The igloo felt like something out of a dream.

Warm, glowing softly from the inside,

while the world outside was frozen and still.

I lay there wrapped in thick blankets,

watching the sky through that wide, clear roof —

as if the universe had left a window open just for me.

They say you can’t chase the Northern Lights.

They come when they want —wild, elusive, untamed.

And if you’re lucky — they might show up.

That night, they did.

It began with the faintest glow —

a soft green shimmer on the horizon.

Then the sky came alive.

Waves of light unfolding in slow motion,

twisting, rising, dissolving into red and gold.

Like the night was breathing in color.

I watched, quietly.

Even if I’d tried, no photo could have held it —

the sky was too alive for stillness.

And in that stillness, I felt it —

that quiet, overwhelming kind of magic.

The kind that makes everything else fade away.

I wasn’t just watching the Northern Lights.

I was inside them.

Like the sky had opened just long enough

to show me how much wonder we live beneath —

and how little of it we ever pause to see.

Once the sky dances for you, you carry it with you —and something in you always long to return.

And for a moment, under that endless sky,

I realised how life loved me back.💕🥹