Blind
It’s an uneventfully cold day in February. Even though the sun shines brighter than usual, the frost bites through my skin and freezes the moisture on my eyelashes. I walk by the Gouin boulevard. Last night had been cruel; the wind was howling in the dark sky and the snow accumulated quickly. Transports have been restricted throughout the entire city. Without any people around to play in the snow or vehicles to crush and soil it, the boulevard becomes a vast expanse of fresh powdery snow, shining the sunlight straight…
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