They say no news is good news, and maybe they're right. But just the occasional update would be comforting. Silence can be devastating - left to its own devices, the mind can dream up some terrifying scenarios which have no basis in fact, yet are just as real to the thinker as the memory of what he had for breakfast. It's probably this capacity to believe the imagined to be true that makes horror stories such a delight to read... but I digress. It is so hard to stay focused when your heart just isn't in what you're doing.
On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.
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