Where night never fully falls, the path of the dawn unfolds.
What a magical night. Hours of uninterrupted spectacle, with the horizon tinged with orange until the early morning.
That night, Jean and I slept under the stars, lying on two benches at a small service station in the heart of the Lofoten Islands. Gazing up at the sky, we were in awe. It was impossible to close our eyes: beams of green, blue, pink, and red danced ceaselessly, exploding and reforming. We could almost hear them whispering.
According to Viking folklore, the Northern Lights are actually the Valkyries, riding across the sky to guide valiant souls to the Bifröst—the luminous bridges connecting Earth to Valhalla. Only warriors chosen by Odin, king of the Norse gods, can reach this sacred realm.
Honestly, after witnessing such a spectacle, it's easy to believe this legend.
