You continue north, toward a place where the sun stays above the horizon. You want to experience it for yourself. That strange phenomenon that makes night disappear here.

The longer you drive through the light, the more disconnected you feel from the rhythm that normally seems so natural. You have little appetite, and you are nowhere near tired. Your body clock is out of sync. As if it were stuck somewhere in an afternoon that ended long ago.

Mile after mile, vast forests give way to lakes, then forests again. You never seem to tire of them. The road is long and quiet. Not a single car comes the other way. Hardly surprising, since it is already well past midnight.

Still, lights are on in some of the houses.

Could the people inside still be awake, just like you?

Then something darts low across the ground in the distance.

You slow down.

A fox.

His fur is reddish brown. His prey dangles from his jaws.

You stop the car.

In the side mirror, you see him walking toward you.

Curious, you lower the window.

The fox stops beside the car.

He studies you. Then he crosses the road again without any hurry and disappears among the trees.

As you drive, your eyes sweep across the landscape. A red deer grazes in the short grass, and farther on, a large hare bounds past. The nighttime drive feels like a journey of discovery. In the unending light, one animal after another appears.

You decide to start looking for a place where you can sleep for a few hours. A narrow gravel track leads into the forest. It proves more challenging than expected.

The track is littered with potholes and rocks. Low, leafy branches hang over it from both sides and brush against the car. It feels as if you are driving through a car wash, but you suspect the car has picked up quite a few scratches by now.

Every pothole tosses you from side to side.

You continue at a crawl. The road curves. Beyond the bend…

A massive moose.

You brake.

The moose stays where he is.

That feels strange.

You expect him to flee.

But he looks your way.

He takes a step forward.

And another.

Your hands tighten around the steering wheel.

For a moment, you are afraid he is going to charge.

Then he turns and bolts into the bushes.

You exhale and continue driving.

Then you hear a squeaking sound. It returns with every bump.

Could something be wrong with the car?

You step outside and are immediately attacked by dozens of buzzing mosquitoes. The antenna has come loose, probably from all the bumps and potholes. You tighten it and get back inside. By now, a few mosquitoes have made it into the car as well. You swat at them, but each time one appears somewhere else.

Your eyelids grow heavy.

You really need to sleep now.

As you search for a suitable place to spend the night, a large bird soaring high above the trees catches your eye.

The bird lands on a nest.

You raise the binoculars to your eyes.

A white head with a dark stripe through the eye. The crest moves in the breeze.

An osprey.

The bird blinks its bright yellow eyes and lets out a call.

You lower the binoculars.

You quietly unfold the tent, careful not to disturb the bird.

A little later, you lie in your sleeping bag beneath the still-bright sky.

The sun still hangs above the horizon.

Yet your eyes drift closed.

It never gets dark.