I wrote my first collection of poems in Antarctica. And he called it “Ocean of Blizzard.” What else can you call a land where out of 30 days in June, for example, 29 are with blizzards, where winds reach 90 m/s, and frosts are 90 degrees, where in one night a skyscraper of snow is covered with a density not inferior to concrete, and built in a year, with incredible efforts, the pier suddenly capsizes with one blow of the elements? Antarctica is the harshest continent and its severity can scare away many. But man is a creature that, contrary to common sense, strives for danger. In this he is like a moth flying to the fire, but he does it consciously.