I spent my adolescence in this northern corner of the earth.

Fairbanks, Alaska, is a place unlike anywhere else. It's a place that always stays the same. In September, it turns gold, and the air smells of birch, cranberries, and wet earth. You can hear sled dogs barking for dinner when you're out in the valley. It's foggy and quiet in the morning, and everything looks like a dream when the sun comes out.

Most roads are dirt, frequented by old trucks, and lined with cute, cozy homes that probably wouldn't pass a building inspection. The smell of woodsmoke emanates from everywhere and sticks to your clothes. At any given time, you can look up at a wall of yellow-orange Aspen and Birch that rises until it is cut short by the bluest sky.

Life up north feels slow, but simultaneously, a sense of impermanence and urgency comes with the fleeting autumn season.