Like a perfectly ironed white cotton sheet, the snow has once again covered absolutely everything. You can’t deny there is some sort of poetic justice in it. When you can’t differentiate the sidewalk from the street; a new, shinny car from an old, rusty one; a neatly kept garden from an abandoned lot, don´t you ever think, before the trucks spoil it all, that the old ideal of equality seems possible, achievable, real? I, naively perhaps, just love it. Just as I love the silent, crunchy sound my clumsy boots make when walking on the snow, the air´s dry smell and that peaceful if eerie feeling of having overcome absolutely everything--another reason not to go back to the tropics.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous12.4.09

    Puro utz. si nos recordamos, lo tenemos que discutir un dia de estos. me gusto poque fuiste capaz de remover "el frio" de la nieve y le dejaste solo tranquilidad.