We are here: Finding Presence in Ilulissat.

We arrive just as the sun is creeping over the mountain ridge. The bright white snow goes from blue to purple to pink to orange as we wind our way toward town.

People drive remarkably faster here than one might expect given how frozen everything is.

I struggle to etch into my mind the descriptions of what I'm seeing and experiencing. My eyes literally widen to take it all in.

Deep grey metallic sea contrasted by crystal blue icebergs perpetually changing shape, all of it taking on a pink hue in both the morning and afternoon light.

The sound of powdery snow crunching underneath our feet as we walk up and down the roads.

The reminder of our innate human capacity for adaptation in how quickly the sensation of frozen snot has shifted from foreign to familiar.

Packs of puppies tumbling over themselves to greet us on pillowed snow paths toward centuries old churches.

Massive glaciers. Everywhere. As far as the eye can see.

Lars Schütt quickly adapts into the role of handler as he greets us and guides as around town, patiently waiting as we grope at and snuggle ALL of the puppies and take in ALL of the novelty, like one giant and all-encompassing inhale.

We are HERE. We ARE here. WE are here.

And our work has begun to really dissect that.