Sunday, March 7

I get up and go out for a walk. The snow has started falling again, but in a special way.

Everything lies blanketed in quietness. The main road stands practically deserted and one car sits in the gas station getting gas.

The sight reminds me of something by somebody who imagines they can paint like Norman Rockwell.

I walk quietly. I do not want to use headphones. I want to hear how little sound I can hear.