I step out into the quiet hush of a gray-blue morning. Sun rays are peeking over a distant cloud, the sky is not yet fully awake. Snow is falling slowly, lightly, as if someone has gently flicked the snowglobe of the city with wool-covered fingertips. All the benches and tables I cross are covered and empty. The dead remain asleep while everyone else is hungover or stuck in a gluttonous stupor. There isn’t a single crumb on the ground for the taking. Still, the birds are up and singing. A squirrel is hiding his finds beneath a pile of leaves. The crows above are twirling like cloud dancers.
A morning walk
A morning walk
A morning walk
I step out into the quiet hush of a gray-blue morning. Sun rays are peeking over a distant cloud, the sky is not yet fully awake. Snow is falling slowly, lightly, as if someone has gently flicked the snowglobe of the city with wool-covered fingertips. All the benches and tables I cross are covered and empty. The dead remain asleep while everyone else is hungover or stuck in a gluttonous stupor. There isn’t a single crumb on the ground for the taking. Still, the birds are up and singing. A squirrel is hiding his finds beneath a pile of leaves. The crows above are twirling like cloud dancers.