I am contemplating stillness. A desolate and flat land breathing an unnatural silence.
The ploughed dirt has taken monstrous shapes as if the hand of a tormented sculptor wanted to impress his agony on this land.
The traces of my footsteps are long gone, probably blown away by the blizzard. And the snow... the snow is a dirty white. It doesn't even have that feel, the one I remember from childhood. It crumbles in my hands, like sand. The sky is also grey and if it weren't for distant trees you would not be able to place the horizon in the picture.
Everything is frozen. The trees have frozen, birds on branches frozen too, looking quiet and at