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Maciej: Postmodern Pancakes
Through the night, I kept waiting for the true blizzard to set in, the part where the air grows fat with flakes, and the wind whips the snow around so that you can’t even see across the street. But instead, the thin trickle kept on, piling up slowly on the street and on the cars parked along it. Sometime towards one in the morning, the accumulated weight of the snow started setting off car alarms, which wailed softly through the thick white blanket, shielded by the snow from any terminating signals from a faraway remote control, until at length the car batteries died, and all was peaceful and quiet.
Posted at 16:53,
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