Looking out my window, it is just cloud of white. It’s not big, wet, chunky snow–more like cold, biting snow. I can tell. But I’m okay with it. I know that when I leave work tonight, the city will be blanketed. And when it wears a blanket of snow, it is quiet. And peaceful. And it looks tidy.

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Of course, the prettiness fades away quickly–but that’s okay.

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