Cold air smells of snow every morning so that I am surprised not to have a pair of skis. It 's a smell reminiscent of persistent, discrete, that is about to fall into small flakes an avalanche of ice. Fall silent out of spite for those who never looks up, the sky, but only the land that is trampling dirty to run here, there, and not to stumble. And like every morning, come out of their Home noticing with dismay that the earth has suddenly changed color. Those who are ready and waiting will clearly see the exact moment when it all begins - Why not start signals, without notice, in absolute total silence . I know, probably a train on them will be deleted and the other half in late fearful, impatient roaring engines of cars to run somewhere before slipping onto some wall, traffic will be more congested than usual , stairs lethally slippery and very low temperatures. The gates will not open, the old machines will not leave, paths and balconies will be cleaned with considerable effort, the schools will close. The end of the civilized world as we know it? Or maybe an invitation to stop and watch, without ever having such a hurry useless. But who cares, it will be all white and there will be new cities, new roads, new homes and a new world in which, for a day, start as it was all still pure, still a virgin .
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