Monday, February 1
The snow has stopped, replaced by a cold which will allegedly get much colder as the week goes on. The snow we left in place will now turn into immovable blocks of ice. Retrospectively I feel happy we have cleared most of the paths we could.
My shoulders disagree.
Near Alepa, by the traffic lights, a bike lays dropped into the snow, and as I look I imagine it slowly disappearing into the archaeological past. I stand and look at it for a few minutes. It doesn’t actually move but it plays along. It does its best to look like I have caught it sinking.