“In the frozen expanse, clad in Arctic layers, I carve through the ice alone, a lone warrior in pursuit of elusive piscine shadows. My breath crystallizes in the cold air, an ethereal requiem for my solitude. On a portable throne, I cast my line into the icy abyss, contemplating the fear that may ripple through the underwater world. Each tug on the line echoes a silent struggle, a stoic poet of desolation finding purpose in the haunting beauty of isolation, and the unspoken dance with the fear felt beneath the frozen surface.”

– John Locke, 18th Century Ice Philosopher