I want it to snow. In the same way that I daydream about shaving my head and running around naked, the way I used to want to run away and not tell anyone where I was going. I want the extremity of it, the simplicity of that extreme. I've been thinking about the big snowstorm a few years back and how calm it was to be shut up in my house, the physical exertion of clearing the steps and digging out the car, how marrow-drainingly silent everything became. As with anything, it's easy to take that as a personal metaphor. If I could pare things down far enough, clear out the clutter, I might see my way out.

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