On the longest evening of the year, a small lakeside village in Finland holds its breath as the sun refuses to set, painting the sky in endless amber and rose. You drift through the hush of a forest that smells of pine resin and woodsmoke, where bonfires are lit, songs rise without hurry, and the boundary between the waking world and something older grows gently thin. Six quiet evenings in, and you may never want the light to leave.
