Get up early. Leaving Tokyo from Narita Airport at midday. First passing over red mountain ridges, meandering rivers and roads, then the deep blue for a while. Clear day.

Another shore. Marshlands. Patterns much like marbled paper in old books; running water under ice and snow – going this way, that way.
Then the highlands, watershed.

 

Floating high above Siberia for hours and hours, hooked between the progressing afternoon in Tokyo and Scandinavian morning. An outstretched present, clock jumps back and forth. North of the polar circle; night at noon.

Rivers running north. The surface bears witness of forces working from below, exposed to those working from above. Geology, meteorology. Interface like a text which I can only vaguely guess the meaning of. Sometimes – but rarely – tracks of human activities. A broad, straight road. A military base? A single light shining from the shore of the Kara Sea.
Light, temperature, time; basics.