" winter for the birds, and the light fantastic "

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it was 12 degrees outside my window on friday. the streets were not filled with snow, but the remnants of a salt-chemistry, which left a barren expanse of corrosives everywhere.

the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly as it blazed defiant. i could not feel my feet below me as they rested on the cold floors of my room. each one of my toes became a distant memory of physical sensation, and for a time it felt as if i had no feet at all.

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janvier 16:


janvier 17:


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