The Journal of Inigo Montoya

Snow

It snowed today. This is the first time I have seen her in what feels like years. 
I had forgotten how cold she is. How she drappes the landscape in white silence. How she dances from the sky, shrieking from my breath. I've decided that if falling snow could talk, it would laugh and sing. 
I cannot remember the last time I wanted to laugh and sing. 
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