moxious
wake up at 5:15 in the morning and look at the window in your closet. it is glowing with orange light which means only one thing: snow on the ground. get up and put the same pants you put on every day, put on the wool jersey you've worn out in barely more than a year, and the black watch flannel that you like so much. walk through the cold house to the front door and open it: snow, inches of it, on the ground and on the trees. coming out of the sky. shake your head and consider just not going to work but decide that riding to work in the snow would be more fun than going back to sleep.
stop on the bridge to take a blurry photo of a view that always makes you feel weird: "I live in a big city with big things, not the little mossy town on the forgotten coast." I miss that mossy town.
after work ride on the dirty, wet streets to a big park. climb to the top of a watertower made of brick and iron. hit the massive iron tank with your fist and it will remind you of distant thunder. it gets closer the higher you climb.
