While the rest of us have been complaining, one New Yorker with a finger immune to the cold (her name is Shelley Jackson) has been hand writing an entire story in the snow, one word at a time, posting it to her Instagram in various increments.
The words she has carved out of the very substance we’ve all come to despise are lovely and poetic; each one is capable of standing on its own without any prior context or foreshadowing as to what might be next.
“To approach snow too closely,” her staccato story begins, “is to forget what it is.” The pictures that follow tell a languid story in loopy, drawn out sentences, allowing you to come to your own conclusion and perhaps decide where it ends for you. Or, you could print them out, cut them up and play with them as though they were those wordy refrigerator magnets that let you create your own dialogue.
The story is in progress because it’s weather-pending, and for the first time all winter, thanks to Shelley, I’m actually looking forward to the next dusting of