i look outside

and i see snow partially hiding narrow, cobblestone streets with bustling people in all black mumbling frenchified rolling R's or germanic V's or scandinavian AA's whilst i grit my teeth in an attempt to fake a grin and hide my dangerously dropping body temperature. so i pull my huge black, knitted shoulder bag like the only piece of clothing i have in this mental silent movie and close my eyes to recall home and temporarily warm my innards. indeed, home is where the heart is.