break.

It is as if the snow could give the whole world a fresh start; brilliant in its simplicity, blinding in pure white. In the past few days the snow has stopped falling in pockets of time just long enough for the roads to mix brine with slush, before once again being covered in yet another layer of white. I don’t recall the last time snowdrifts reached heights greater than my own. The hardened piles seem at once daunting and permanent. Facing them now, it’s hard to imagine how they could ever melt into flat pieces of mulch or pavement. It’s hard to imagine what could possibly lie beneath what is so impossibly white.

The days pass predictably. Wake around 10, read, eat, attempt productivity, talk to Mark over phone or gmail, contemplate/anticipate/dread another semester of enlightenment/sleep deprivation/stress/experience/fun and of inevitable hellos/goodbyes/smiles/tears/failures/triumphs. It feels a little bit like riding a bike in front of a car that I’m afraid will speed up and run me over. What choice do we have but to pedal faster?