Gig

A Year In Nadada: Week Fifty- Perfoming To The Snow

A Year In Nadada: Week Fifty- Perfoming To The Snow

We returned to the snow wilderness. Tiny flakes spilt into my mouth with the consistency of freezing sand. A never ending wind whipped up in every direction. A path surrounded by palm trees was under out feet somewhere, but the snowbank hid the point where the road ended, and the landscape began. White dust frosted the tops of my shoes. Every so often an unexpected drift meant my leg vanished all the way up to the knee.The Butter Mouse padded along on the snow next to me, a pastiche of an artic hare.