anna; black acrylic ink on letraset paper, 8.25 x 11.5 inches. Used with permission, the original is here.
* * * * *Walked home from the studio in a little snowstorm last night. Writers reach for all sorts of analogous descriptions for snow, but there really is nothing like that closed-in, cloaked feeling of a darkness enveloped with it. Soft and muted and lovely. The snow ploughs bumble by, like twitching rambly bots. Two big girls were having a fight outside a poutine shop, with a smaller girl hopping around them both. As I went by, the smaller girl said, Good luck getting laid without me!, and then the big girls started pushing each other. I guess Christmas must be over. I passed another person about two blocks from home, a guy wearing a hood and a ski mask even though it was the warmest it's been all week. Why are you wearing a ski mask? I wondered, until I was about half a block past him, and the thought finally came in.