Silently, almost on tiptoe, a white cover descended on the city. You casually glance out the window and you realise that the landscape has changed.
It’s minus something, and everything suggests staying indoors, where there’s warmth and good food. But can alcohol and hearty dishes distract you from the chance of seeing the city under a new guise, as the white pellets of ice glide on its roofs? No, you decide.
The citadel is quiet tonight. Most of the citizenry has elected not to follow you and, as a result, the citadel is free for you to roam. Only a few souls brave the cold, and they pass by speaking in hush tones, as if not to disturb the melody of the falling flakes.
In the main square, a floodlight is pointed upwards, as if looking for enemy bombers. You know it’s there to embellish the bell tower of the church, but it also unfolds the majestic dance of the snow as it falls to ground, perturbed by imperceptible currents and whiffs of wind.
That’s it. Your fingers have all but lost sensibility, and it’s hard to maneuver the devilish small settings of your camera. Time to go home, food’s still waiting for you after all.