Frozen flakes stream sideways, seemingly coming from a white unknown void and falling to form mountains, fossils of themselves. Life stand stills. Stalled by the static that is now blurring the vision of the screen in front of me. A quiet descends despite its resemblance to a televised white noise, only a slight rumble of the plow pushing by.
Stranded. Each house a ship, the roads now oceans, and the frost an overwhelming swell. Voices boom inside the caged off cabins our fellow castaways are stuck inside of. Eventually, each cadence becomes grating, the sound of footsteps haunting, the solace of solitude necessary. The thoughts in my own head seem to be from sources outside of myself. Intruded upon by the noise of this isolated world.
The sea outside the window changes with each minute, hours pass and a new landscape emerges. I feel as if we are, in fact, trapped within one single spec of sand that is somehow stuck to the side of the smallest diameter of an hourglass, watching the other grains pass us by.
In here, we are cemented in place, yet just on the other side of the window pane there is a flurry of motion. As if the white noise is present but we hear silence only because our ears have not tuned into the music. What a paradoxical harmony that would make.
Swirling words like whirling winds of different worlds. Each perspective an entirely different dimension. Decisions whirling around us like this snow storm and we are stranded in the center of them. Will you let yourself be consumed by them? Overwhelmed and buried by their weight? Or will you shovel your way out? Create a path in the undulating waves that will never stop crashing? Will you sink or swim?