I exit the building and start walking.
The white stuff changes many things. For example, it redefinessomething I normally give for granted: the fact that the ground is a
safe place to walk on. It also changes the way the world looks like. Sidewalks are gone. They
now blend with streets, roads, grass, sea and forests. It's all part
of the same thing, and I find it extremely beautiful. Things are now
black and white. Black for the trees, white for everything else. Soft shapes without edges. A complete transformation of the landscape
in matter of days. A transformation that does not distinguish between
man-made or natural, nor about borders of any kind. A transformation
done by tiny particles, weak and insignificant on their own, but
powerful when collaborating together. Men fight these symmetric
weightless particles with noisy weightfull machines, in an attempt to
keep the black of the roads unchanged. It's not the first time I realize all this. What surprises me this time is the silence. I see cars passing by and
my brain tells me there is something missing. I see those cars, but
they make no sound. I observe the red light turn green. Fifteen cars accelerate completely
silently and I must laugh. I can only hear the engines of those
passing right next to me. The sound immediately fades away. The tires,
which are usually the noisiest part of these vehicles, are now silent.
It feels like several layers of carpets had been laid on the asphalt,
and inside my ears. The experience is like a gift for someone like me. Then, suddenly, it comes to my mind. Many people live their lives this
way, not hearing what they see.
