By the time I boarded the Greg Mortimer in Ushuaia, Antarctica wasn’t new to me. I had spent the last two seasons chasing the surreal landscapes of the White Continent—icebergs the size of cathedrals, penguin colonies stretching to the horizon, that electric silence that fills your chest when you stand alone on a frozen shore.

Each year, as the Californian winter begins to bite, my thoughts inevitably turn to the warmth of my birthplace, Rio de Janeiro. There was a magnetic pull to this city of sun, sand, and soul, especially during New Year's celebrations. As a photographer, Rio has always felt like it had a cultural kaleidoscope with vibrant energy.