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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

at last light...

I was all set to write the ‘first snow’ entry. I fell asleep early and woke up to find the first real snow had gone and started while I was underwater. It’s that pretty kind of snow. The kind that falls gently and softly. Little fluffy particles that melt instantly when they land on your hot skin. The kind of snow where you feel magical just by looking at it.

But then, the power went out. The lack of any kind of electrical lighting along with the blanketing snow lend to an ‘end of the world’ kind of feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Like as though I am one of the few last survivors of an unnamable catastrophe and I’m journal-writing at the last outpost of the planet. Miles to go before I sleep…

I know. Dramatic. But then, that’s kind of how I am. Anything and everything can invoke feelings from me. Gone (it seems) are the days when apathy was the flavour in my head and all I felt was nothing for everything.

I took a few photographs of the snow. With flash, since no light is anywhere. They look like blue stained negatives. Beautiful in that fragile sort of way that touches you lightly before you dismiss it.

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