“I didn't realize this was a sad occasion.”

             —A Series of Unfortunate Events

There’s a delicate stillness in fresh-fallen snow, in the soft layered landscape of light and shadow, in a postcard with life breathed into it or a silent film on a loop as time slows to a single moment. Snowflakes flurry endlessly like magic, floating in moonlight curtains through trees’ brittle outstretched fingers, echoes of the muted glimmer of stars pressed frozen into velvet skies. Silence crystallized in the air, smooth as glass, a tension so fragile it is reduced to a whisper. Cars ambling noiselessly through the streets, lost in a powdered sugar storm. Calm settles in with a lightness, a savory slowness, as if all of the chaos in the world has simply paused, preserving a tiny slice of perfection.