current
older
profile

2002-11-27 | 10:45 a.m.
_

Kissing in coats.

Staring at the Dayquil�

�thinking about snow as a mime, a shroud, covering the visual clues of reality. Soothing intruder of my collar. Calming my ears and eyes, shocking my skin. I didn�t care if the bus came, if I made it to work. All I could do exist in this funny state the snow put me in. Semi-reality? Reality as defined. My brain puts me in the middle of nowhere everywhere I go.

There�s something about the big puffy flakes that boast more than they follow through. They do something to my trite New England heart. Especially in the city, at night, on narrow cobblestone streets, when the bare trees are sparkling with champagne colored Christmas lights, when I have my scarf wrapped thrice round the neck and hands shoved in my pockets. And the snow, abivalent about the direction of it's lazy fall, turns everything into a soft, furry, sleeping animal. You�d smell sandalwood incense and could never locate the source. Ducking into brownstones that house dusty stores with high ceilings with wood floors so old that the finish is worn off and they are dull and creaky. Shuffling quietly in the dim light and shadows among the mass of ancient stained glass windows, gargoyles and statues. Wandering with red, runny noses in the perfect coldness that this kind of snow ushers in. I feel little for holiday celebrations, but I feel deeply for snow.


last entry | next entry

The WeatherPixie
Book of Guest

e-mail
notes
Rings and Links




host