snowstorm

There's something ugly about snow & cities. The snow has nowhere to fall and so underneath the rampant stomping of hurried New Yorkers, it melts, withering away until there's nothing left of it but dark, murky rain water. Snow breathes in valleys. In woods and plains it falls, dusting the ground and then growing mountainous until there's white as far as the eye can see. I miss that snow...that happy feeling you get when you look outside your window and you see bright ice. It makes you want to breathe in that crisp air. All you breathe in here is the air of crispy halal food.