A wonderful silence has descended over the old town.
All sounds are muted; the incessant rushing hum of wheels on tarmac from the main streets has vanished, replaced by an awesome, reverent silence, only broken by the crunching of my footsteps on the gradually thickening layer of pure white snow. The old town is transformed into a picture postcard image in which mere humans have no place. Only the timeless, ageless shapes of the buildings, the bridges, the streets remain, converted into a stark, severe beauty that no human hand can ever touch.
Slowly, I make my way home through a lovely town on a dark winter’s night, its pristine layer of snow only disturbed by my footsteps, my breath converted into little clouds of freezing air, my soul communing with the spirits of winter.