In the past people believed the earth ended somewhere to the south of the continents known then. They were right, somehow. Once you pass the Drake Channel and Cape Horn submerges under the horizon behind, the world, as we know it, also is left behind. And a new world appears, a world whose only trees are some Christmas’ trees brought by its non-permanent residents, where international boundaries do not exist, where flightless birds wear tuxedos and flying birds fly into the water like bombers, where the landscape is covered by a white blanket, and where men let their fraternal and ecological instincts emerge without shame.