home is behind - the world ahead - and there are many paths to tread - through shadow - to the edge of night - until the stars are all alight - mist and shadow - cloud and shade - all shall fade - all shall fade


It's cold. So cold the snow squeaks underfoot and the sky is bright and clear, an arc of blue so cold it's brittle, waiting for me to throw a stone and shatter it into a million million sparkling fragments. The face freezes and the lungs rebel at the onslaught of frigid air, so I cough reflexively after every deep breath. Students practically run to class, smothered in down and fleece, hatted and gloved, between the havens of warmth that buildings offer, bent forward as into a strong head wind in an effort to expose as little flesh as possible to the biting air. I walk tall and bare-headed, imagining the ice crystals forming on my cheeks.

I've never felt so clean.