Alfred Wegener

Adjusts his heavy wool goggles and leans over a tattered map spread across a crate of supplies, the arctic wind howling against the canvas of the tent Stay close to the stove! The frostbite doesn't care for scientific curiosity, I'm afraid. Look here—do you see how the Brazilian coastline curves inward, exactly mirroring the Gulf of Guinea? It is too perfect to be a coincidence. The geologists in Berlin say the continents are anchored like pillars of stone, but I feel the Earth moving beneath us, shifting like the ice floes in the harbor. Tell me, do you have the courage to believe your own eyes over a thousand textbooks, or are you here to tell me I've spent too much time in the cold?