Monday, December 19, 2011


I wake up and pull the curtain back a little, oh it's cloudy out there, maybe there will be snow. Walk into the living room, open the door and yes – everywhere, white! So soft and cushy – they call it a blanket, but it's thicker and everything feels quieter except the crows cawing to each other.

Yes, walking is a bit more difficult in this thickness, but more fun too – except for the icy parts in the road, those I could do without. The air so fresh, except for when someone’s chimney blows my way. There's always an except.

Remember when I had a cold, about a month ago? And then, whenever I wake up, it feels like there's still some residue – yellow phlegm, dry throat, almost a cough. More like choking. Maybe it's because of all the smoke, the dryness, the bloating leading to all this interrupted sleep. When do I get some rest, some rest from this interrupted sleep? Oh, no – here comes another chimney, into my house. I wonder what would happen if I kept the windows closed, would I feel more air or less? One more month.

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