I’m sitting under a bridge in filthadelphia. This city is covered with asphalt, concrete and trash. It’s littered with skyscrapers, high-rise and over a million people. But today is different.

It’s 4:53 pm, rush hour on a Friday. Everyone is getting out of work early, but to no avail. For this Friday is different because a soft blanket of snow is coating this entire city. Attempting to rejuvenate it, to cleanse it, to take it back.

And for a day, for a couple of hours, it seems to be succeeding. The gears of the city slow, the cars come to a stand still, and the people look as though they are being beaten down by this snow. Instead of seeing asphalt, concrete, steps, or roads all you see is a soft blanket of white.

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The street lights turn on, glowing orange, trying to fight the soft blanket of white. But the snow increases, making it impossible to see over a quarter of a mile. All but defeating this orange glow, by simply surrounding it, by muffling it, sedating it and leaving the calm quiet sound of snow falling.

I look out on the city on this night and see a victor, still coating the entire landscape. Roads, roofs, cars, all with a dusting of white. In natures futile attempt to take back this city. To remove all that has been made, by covering it up with a blanket of white, white indifference.

But in the morning everything will resume. Cars will be brushed off, roads will be plowed, sidewalks will be shoveled and city life will resume as usual. But all this work is not in vain.

For as I sit under this bridge I feel at home. I feel at peace in this city. I feel like I belong here more than ever. Tonight this is my city. Thank you very much snow, I needed that, if only for a couple of hours.


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