some people have real problems

I was complaining, you see, about how it never snows here. (Well, it doesn't. Places a mere quarter-mile from the sea do not get snow, unless the apocalpyse is coming or you're in Montauk.) It is snowing in London. It is snowing a little in Oxford and Liverpool. And then it started to snow here as though someone somewhere had turned a handle, all in loops and whorls, and I went out for a while. It didn't stick, but came down prettily against vistas of bare trees and slate grey.

( the rest is less interesting )

edited to add: fuck this shit, have a poem.

( life story )