I trudged threw the snow, carefully lifting my foot as to not let it enter my boots. As I walked, my boots made a loud crunch in the snow with a patterned noise like a soldier marching in a line. In my head that’s just what it became. A vast snowline with its depth of birches, white soccer poles and net’s leaning into the snow as if being consumed. There were two school buildings, one left of center of my position and the other far right. Spray paint dripped from the walls, twisted in greens and blacks, zigzagging across the building forming letters and gang symbols. That’s why I flocked to the woods, away from the calamity.
Serenity formed a giant circle lined with trees making great sweeping walls, closed off from the field only opening into a small brook. There is a church on the right and the only thing visible. The snow is untouched making a marble flooring across the wood. By the creek there is a bench with a thin layer of snow across it, untouched by the gently flowing river. It is a peaceful place, plenty of space to think and an uncanny ability to generate noises not normally heard. I sat listening, pondering, while filling that serenity with an array of smoke.