(no subject)

beginnings of seasons always do something sharp to me, while the ends gently dissolve, shimmering like air through smoke. snow makes me want to be quiet, when snow is falling I feel like I could be a secret agent, or a ghost, and--and in the winter, and only in the winter, I love equally looking inside houses from the outside and looking out the window from the inside.

you wouldn't think it, but winter is structured like a chiasmos.