As a guide in Tallinn, I’m used to places that reveal their stories only when you slow down and look closely. The Memorial to the Victims of Communism at Maarjamäe is one of those places — quiet, spacious, and emotionally disarming in its simplicity.

It’s early morning. The kind of brisk, crisp Tallinn day when the sea’s whisper meets concrete under a pale sky. I walk along Kopli Line, each step drawing nearer not just to a museum, but to a place where metal, concrete and sea have breathed together for over a century.

Just minutes from Tallinn’s city center lies a world that feels lifted straight from the golden pages of European history. Kadriorg Park and its crown jewel, Kadriorg Palace, form one of Estonia’s most elegant and romantic destinations, where Baroque grandeur meets lush landscape design and serene natural beauty.

Even after guiding more than a hundred tours through Tallinn’s UNESCO-listed Old Town, the feeling never gets old. There is something timeless and quietly magical about these cobblestone streets — a mix of medieval drama, northern calmness, and hidden corners that reveal themselves differently with every walk.

On most evenings, the Baltic sky over Tallinn rests quietly — a soft gradient of navy blue fading into the horizon. But sometimes, if the conditions are just right, something extraordinary happens.

Something we usually think belongs to Lapland, Iceland, or faraway Arctic wilderness.

Yet there I was, standing above Tallinn’s rooftops, watching a green and violet curtain of light shimmer across the night sky.