" okay. snow." you said. it obviously wasnt something you'd conjurred at the top of your head seeing as you had just returned from a ski holiday in Korea.
Just today in the midst of half brushing my teeth and half in-reverie, it suddenly came to me.
Life. It just snowballs past and it wont stop or wait for you. Collecting dirt, stones and scars at the same time. It starts off pure and innocent or – fresh snow, as they’d call it. Thick and untouched. Nobody knows how deep they go nor how shallow they actually are off the surface of the earth. All they see is the glistening whiteness. Ive wondered, is white even a colour? Or is it just nothingness. Kind of like the clouds you see in the sky. They're so solid against the blue background it almost looks as if you can touch the white cotton candy. But when you're in a plane and it swooshes past you, then you realise, no its just evaporated air. Snowballs make me think of an avalanche. Or perhaps just a rolling ball. Life itself is a rolling ball cum avalanche. You go through life, and go through all these experiences, picking up a layer of debris at every place to end up as this huge movie in motion. A walking cinema. A walking book. We all have our own stories. Whats yours? To this day I keep wondering...
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