January 9, 2022
There is something about the way snow tells a story - falling slowly, settling silently on still earth. It lays itself down page by page, words that carry cold with them covering the ground. An offering, it seems, to us or something bigger, as if saying ‘here is something new to read’ while sketching out a soft saga of steps, a free association of footprints that fight to be seen. One over the other, piled like plots about intercepting lives and all the ways we interrupt one another.
