(no subject)
I love snowstorms. I might just as say it is my favourite weather, at least for the moment. I like the clear sky, sure, but inside the storm, you're not exposed to the infinite cosmos of the night or the piercing blue of the day sky. You feel like you're coated by a fuzzy cloud blanket, and all the emotions are yours alone. The snow washes the air, falling aslant in giant schools of snowflakes, and the houses' facets are finally filled with the always-dim orange street lighting. The air is somehow filled, too. It's very quiet, both from outside the house, and with the neighbors, so I sit near a window and dissolve in the white whirls of oblivion.