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Tuesday, 5 January 2010


It's not that usual blindness one gets up mountains from the sun's reflection on the never-melting snow, it's a different kind. More invasive. And yet, in its own way, it's enjoyable - the feel of the cold on my eyes and closed under my lids, the way it floats down upon them when it knows I don't want to blink, can't blink and won't blink. It's cruel but I enjoy it, want it even.

Everything is a haze of glowing amber, shapes of muted colours float past slower than they do in reality - everything's slower when snowblind.

In slow-motion, my life flutters past upon the wings of an all-too-freezing moth trying to make it's way to the warm light behind a window pane. I see moments in sepia tone, and I think, I remember. I close my eyes and melt them away.

Open again, I look up to the sky. Shimmering diamonds on blue velvet.

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