What a glorious thing, to be surrounded in a wood without the intrusion of media. How grand the world is undressed in her gilded neon signs touting her glittery wears. The snow has enough to say for itself, it needs no decor, no ornamentation. Snow is snow, and everything about her is pure, wondrous and beautiful. She does not hide her cruelty behind a facade or glass ornaments swinging like an axe from fleshy ear-lobes. No, if she needs to kill, she leaves signs; the bodies of dead insects. There is no question about why she does what she does. She is snow. She is cold.
Today she is not so cold, the weather is around thirty degrees. She makes herself known first on the branches, sticking and clumping. When night comes, she unleashes her wintery breath. All the world is cast in a crystalline shell. She spares no one.
If there is any justice in the world, it is through nature. Only the tide could ever decide who gets to stay and who gets to go. If it is through nature, then it is just. There is no reason to regret, if it comes from nature. Man often forgets he is a manifestation of natural forces, some kind of wind brought about by chains of amino acids, fur, skin, and cell colonies. He is the result of plant-matter, decomposition, changes in air pressure and temperature. He forgets. Nature calls him back, and he remembers an older time. It's in that older time I feel immortality, and how short my life is. I rejoice in the chemical fire oxidizing and eating away at what was me a minute ago.
Enjoy these photos I shot in the woods.