The winds rise and sweep the area in white. It's hountingly beautiful, how the once-colourful area is blanketed in emotionless white, pure snow. The desolation's beauty is of a madman's dream.
I look out the window to see everything hazy: the white winds are filling the area, making everything harder to see. The gentle hum of the winds and the sound of the snow hitting the house is all I hear in the quiet winter.
