Sunday, 5 February 2012

Deep. Crisp. Even.

The smell of cold, clean air.

The phlumph noise snow makes when you shovel it off the path.

The cars left with fluffy white mohicans once snowballing arms have reloaded.

The whoops and hollers of unalloyed joy carried across rooftops from other streets.

The trails in the snow - crossing over one another, showing tracks we share across time.

The cold drips that fall high from trees, hitting the back of your neck and reminding you how alive the day is.

Hope you enjoyed them too.

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