It Is Snowing and There is Cognac

There is nothing so quiet as streets covered with thick, damp snow. Everything is muffled, traffic sounds, voices in the streets, ambulance sirens, everything. If driving you can hear the air conditioner underneath the radio, the occasional windshield wipe, the sticky wet of intersections. The cold white mute button of the world.

When I was younger, I would jump into the swimming pool, and sink straight to the bottom. Shutting out the sounds around me, being gently rocked back and forth by the motion of the water. Peaceful. Serene. Quite unlike the sharp snaps and far off honks and raised voices on the surface. Spend enough time in the water, and the air feels different; harsher, more vibrant, empty.

I wonder what it means, that I am quite skilled in shutting out the world. To not only have a list of methods, but preferences among them. Working my way through a crowd for example, is an excellent way to be alone. And when alone, talking to people I'm not with as though I had company. No matter where I am, I always have a handy solution for being somewhere else.

Very few exceptions I suppose, and even then, just twists on the same old theme. When I'm dancing, I'm inside the music, when love making I'm intertwined with someone else. But very rarely am I just me. Perhaps when I'm sleeping. We are what we dream, after all.

So quiet right now. The world holding its breath, waiting til it has to rise. Never takes as long as I wish it would.