The world outside is rattling my brain, and I really cannot seem to focus; the snow begins to quietly fall, the world projects a slower pace.

I  am afraid to move ahead, my internal compass needs to be recalibrated; the impending darkness brings a purplish hue, I am captivated by the swirling winds.

I realize I'm holding my breath, I forget how my lungs work; the storm picks up, showering its frozen crystals in random patterns.

Somehow I always end up where I need to be, not necessarily where I want to be; the beauty outside takes my breath away, I pretend we're isolated from the rest of the world.