Fields of snow

Under the circumstances, it isn't really possible to work from the hotel. I woke up almost timely and decided to walk down to work. Temptation drove me to the Greenway which is more of a Whiteway now. I won't get an opportunity living in India to walk through beautiful snow covered lanes, on little rusty bridges beside a quietly flowing creek laden with ice on the way to work. I will miss it. Roads like these are the stuff poetry is made of. The layer of ice cracking under my footsteps and the crunchy snow beneath made a deafening sound in the silence. I was quite thrilled though to see beside a pair of footsteps before mine, tyre-tracks. A cyclist had been here.

My office is that little bit of building visible on the photo on the top right. Though I haven't been here long, I have seen how the place got transformed from red, orange and yellow, to pale brown and mild green, and finally to white. Snow sculpts everything all over again, smoothening off all rough edges. It isn't as timid as it looks, but it adds beauty to everything.

I was alone at work today and yet it was very busy. Meetings ending, meetings beginning and meals forgotten. As I was returning late in the evening, the sky had turned into a dark orange haze and the snow on the ground seemed to be glowing with a light of their own. The sharp wind turned the ears and hands numb in a matter of minutes and given how some snow had turned into ice, the option to walk fast wasn't available. I didn't want to hurt the camera.

Ended the day with gluttony, which has often been the case.


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