Awake at 04:30; having arrived on an intercontinental (but still local) flight in Danish Greenland and a second hop on a prop jet to Ilulissat, my body clock was all over the show.
The time was irrelevant, it was light and looking out from behind the blinds, this view had me pulling on several layers of warm clothing, reaching for a camera and tripod, lest I miss it.
Several days later, the foreground iceberg was still there, its base on the sea bed, marooned until sufficient ice had melted to lift it and allow it to drift off into the North Atlantic.
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