Somewhere in the world the sun shines gently and warm breezes shift the edges of curtains through windows open to the morning.
Somewhere the afternoon sun forces people into the shade and the air ripples over pavement like blurred glass.
Here the world has turned hard and white. Like a bony fist crushes in and covers the land, squeezing the living warmth out the weak and unsheltered.
Still I must go out into the ice-fist world. Slowed to a crawl, I will move in the world with painstaking care. At every turn a decision I would normally make without thinking now becomes a process. Should I take the bus or drive? If I drive which path will be the safest or even possible? Most of these choices will be made without enough specific information to actually make a difference in the end. I will either get through the day without any major mishaps or not. I will either get to the things that should be done or not. Winter brings the world into focus and makes me think of what is absolutely necessary. What do I need to get done? Or at the extreme what is actually possible? Each little step is taken with caution feeling for invisible slippery patches that could mean discomfort, delay or disaster.
Even with these obstacles and dangers, I will make my way through the day. I must risk disaster in order to stay warm and fed. I must venture forth into the ice so that I can come home and prepare for tomorrow which will probably be even colder.