fragments(bittersweet love)

The first blizzard of the season in Detroit. I fear it and I love it, kind of bittersweet love. My immediate fear stems from the high speed rollover accident about six years ago. It never gets old. Every year, during the first day of the first blizzard of the season, I have to find strength and will to step over it, to conquer my fear. But again, there is more to it. The first blizzard awakes deep, deep feelings that float in a few drops of my blood. I feel as if every molecule of it shivers with the memory of my ancient ancestors enduring generations of the Ice Age and perishes at the end. And also the feeling of being home, when the whole universe shrinks to the arm stretch of a cocoon, where the fog of my breath freezes in midair and wraps me in a white soft blanket of sleep… the first blizzard of the season, my bittersweet love all over again…