90 Days of ILP

[Post for yesterday] Further snowfall blanketed Boulder, a twist of fate that "wipes the slate clean" and unites all citizens in its frigid danger. On Broadway, three buses and four cars collided. On the 205 line, the 9:30 bus caught up to the 9:00 bus, because the latter was stuck on an icy corner going up a hill.

I've always found there to be something quite mystical about snowfall. Is it the austerity? The purity? The innocence? The whiff of death? I'm not sure.

Snow Practice: go outside, make a snowball, hold it in your hands and bring it indoors. Mind the pain, the play of heat and cold, the throb of red hands and the rubber grope of whitened fingers. See it dwindle, liquify, pouring in slow motion through your palms. Breathe. Sleep.

Then jump in a snow pile.