The days are short, the nights long. The river freezes and the land turns monochrome, rust brown and gray on the steppes and frozen blues in the mountains.
The view from our apartment is an expressionist palette of muted colors and uncertain shapes through the quarter inch of ice frozen on the inside of the window. We put on six and seven layers of clothes before venturing outside. Mongolia is winter’s domain, and the season does not relinquish its grasp easily.