The aftermath of the snowstorm looks like a tragic battlefield.
From the 33rd floor an amazing view of snow sitting on roofs is left untouched, contrasting with grayish areas from streets and pavements disturbed by people's footprints. The sight remains breathtaking from the sun who has decided to show up this morning, adding a little golden touch to the picture.
The monstrosity and harsh reality remains at ground level. Crackling sounds created by footstep on un-walkable icy pathways, puddles formed at edges of pavements, and merchants desperately trying to scrap ice off and away from their businesses.
You will see, however, a rare complicity among Parisians on this day. Each on the same boat, forced to slow down, no longer able to go about their usual fast-paced lifestyle. There is not one person complaining or sighing about the person in front of them walking too slow. What you will hear though is their discontent about the snow, a bunch on their cell discussing the calamity from the day before.
A brotherhood has been created through an unfortunate event; the kindest sight of the day remains that of two men helping another who has fallen due to the icy ground.
No matter how horrible the effects of the December 8th, 2010 snow storm are or are about to get, the memories that remain are unforgettable; from the moment I laid eyes upon the snow as I exited the hospital to being most utterly eager and thrilled to take photos. (even with a camera phone)
The most enjoyable part of it being, the childhood-like state of not worrying about the possible danger whilst running to metro station and carrying my hand through the thick layers of snow sitting on low walls along the way.
It was a beautiful moment of freedom, something comparable to screaming-in-the-woods, or what I would imagine the experience to be.
I did push my luck a bit further that night after making my way to the store when the snow had ceased to fall and started to melt. The puddles on the pavements were uncomfortable so Diane and I ran in the middle of the street (She, being the one to come up with the great alternative). She was running in front of me, until I warned her of a car driving up, and got her back to the watery snowy puddles. I on the other hand refused to give up that little thirst for adventure (or foolishness, however you will think of it) and got back into the middle of the empty road as soon as the car drove past me. I'd constantly keep looking back like the protagonist of an action movie would, dramatically try to escape from the bad guys chasing after me. The car kept driving up faster and faster, but I refused to forfeit the battle until I knew it was time to. As I got back onto the sidewalk, the car honked at me and got me to turn around. It had been filled with policemen; one of them rolled the window down and asked me if everything was OK and what I had been up to.
I considered telling him that I had had too much fun running in the middle of the street, but figured I'd best not to and ended the conversation there and get home as fast as possible, seeing that I had missed dry land the minute before and got my right shoe wet.
12/08/2010
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