All that remain of the autumn colors once seen clinging on the branches of the many trees surrounding campus can now only be found on the heads of my Caucasian classmates; though, the spectrum of hair colors are somewhat of a dull comparison to the brilliant, ephemeral shades of nature that existed before.
When I came out today and found the grass frosted over, each blade coated with a delicate layer of ice, I couldn't help but laugh. It still strikes me funny as to how the sun can be out, yet I can see my breath hang in the air.
You never quite realize how far your breath travels until it's visible in cold weather. It puts things in perspective when you're interacting with other people--when you breathe out, I'm breathing you in, vice versa; there's a peculiar sense of intimacy formed in making this rather morbid connection. It makes me a little more understanding when someone takes a step back upon discovering that you're sick.
E still walks around in shorts, which means the weather's actually "not that bad yet." I've been lead to believe that some time in the near future, the rain is going to freeze into a shower of needle-sharp crystals that will strike me dead one morning while I wait for the bus--apparently the cold doesn't peak until mid January to the end of February.
Curse this godforsaken school.
So while I was contemplating my wardrobe in preparation for the hard times ahead, I was almost run over by not one, but two bikes at the round-a-bout. Yes, like you've always said, I need to pay more attention to my immediate surroundings.
Love,
Chantal
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