Tranquility
Tuesday 27th January
When all around is dark and still. The village sleeps, framed by shrouded mountains; eerie, immovable in the night. Towering and white. The only sound is of snow softly falling, muting footsteps and incandescent lights. Steam billows from a nearby chalet, a sign of warmth in a frozen landscape. Is she out there? I search the sky. The world is before me. Together we merge.
So poetic you are, Jon.