The ice of Lake Baikal is out of this world. It is dark, black, and deep. It is criss-crossed by cracks, some tiny, some big. It is at times flat and shiny, at times with small ripples of tiny waves as if frozen in place. But most of all it is clear. Crystal-clear like ice cubes in a drink – but then on the scale of meters. It catches the sun in all shades of transparent blue. It is cold. It is hard. And it actually talks.
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