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It is hard to know how I got here,
now that we cut the sled dogs loose,
and went our separate ways for help,
hard as pack ice in the footsteps
I crunch into, wondering whose they are,
following a herd of anxious commuters
doubtless on their way to warmth,
raising what look like pitch forks
against the white buildings ahead,
their black tongues crying, "Murder"
as I laugh into the snow-licked wind,
glad not to be the foreman on that rig,
glad to see the thousand-pair kind eyes
blinking out in front of me, soft-nosed
welcome party, parting ways as I approach
the city centre, flushed and sweating,
under this maniacal sun, I skip forward,
breathing heavily, pulling off my clothes.
I found a film of reindeer in the archive.org 35mm Stock Footage collection
and, after watching it several times, I began to develop a narrative about a man lost in the Arctic Circle. The poem came from there, followed by the video and effects editing and finally the music and sound effects.