Cold! Deep cold, satisfying somehow the knowledge that today was colder than ever. A kind of toughness, death-defying we reside here in the North, colder than the freezers which preserve fleshes, that are frozen hard. In it, we wander, dressed in the coats of ducks and geese whose feathers insulate us and reflect the heat of our souls and spirits.
Cold! Cars stuck in the depth of their own oil turned to gunk, impossible to turn through. Some, starting, spew out mountains of smoke and steam and grotesqueries rising to meet the brilliant morning sun whose light has no heat. That light, low-angled, reflecting off the glass of buildings reflecting other buildings which have shells of stone, absorbing light and the life of the city.
The sounds…all is muffled-seeming. The crunch of snow upon walking almost crackling. The tik-clack, tik-clack of a truck carrying a motor to turn-over stalled cars, penetrating both silence and the sense that all should be hushed, turns on high, machine-gun-like to send the burst of voltage to a cold tired battery, unable, unwilling to turn starter motors through oil turned to gunk.