It’s not really snow, but my mind knows what it is, even though it doesn’t really have a name... This piece is about the storms in the mind that seem to blow around and over us as a blizzard. Completely blocking out the rest of life for a while, giving you a bit of tunnel vision or isolation. Suddenly, it’s quiet, and you see the blizzard is over and the storm has created such intricate beauty you almost cannot take it in everything. The silence manages to continue to scream. Inside, your take refuge until the swirling vortex leaves.
After The Rift
The Bridges We Build