As the curator of East River Pier 35, I have had the privilege of witnessing the ever-changing landscape of the New York City waterfront. But one week in January 2017 still stands out in my mind as a particularly remarkable event. It started with a cold snap, as Arctic air masses swept down from the north, bringing with them temperatures that plummeted to record lows. The East River, normally a bustling waterway, began to slow and freeze, its surface transforming into a vast expanse of ice. And then, the ice bergs came. At first, they were just small fragments, carried downstream by the river's currents. But as the days passed, they grew larger and more frequent, until it seemed as though the entire river was filled with a flotilla of frozen islands. The sight was both beautiful and surreal, like something out of a fantasy novel. The ice bergs, some of which towered above the pier, glowed with a soft blue light, as if illuminated from within. As the week wore on, the ice bergs continued to flow past the pier, each one unique and ephemeral. Some were shaped like towering spires, while others resembled great frozen plates. Despite the cold, the pier was filled with people, all of whom had come to witness this rare and fleeting spectacle. Some took photos, while others simply stood and stared, mesmerized by the beauty of the ice. As the days passed, the ice bergs began to melt, their frozen forms slowly disintegrating as they flowed out to sea. And as they disappeared, the river returned to its normal self, its surface once again a bustling thoroughfare of boats and ships. But the memory of that week has stayed with me, a reminder of the beauty and power of nature, and the magic that can be found in even the most unexpected places.