Here's a video of what I saw this afternoon. That's the view from our current place in Madison:
The forces of nature up here always felt too aggressive compared to what I was used to in Brazil. At the same time, though, they are also so soothing. When I walk outside, I feel my face is burning, every single vein and artery start stinging. . . My soul becomes restless, it doesn't let me breathe. It stabs my lungs, my muscles, ripping them from within to find freedom and run back to some place where there is warmth. After agitation, comes numbness. Completely numb, then, I can appreciate beauty in these cold winters.
I open my window at night and fill my lungs with freezing air. They fill up quickly with ice particles, and I start to cough convulsively. It hurts, but it tells me I'm alive. The air feels fresh, and it is even more refreshing after hours indoors, after hours in a stuffy room. I look up, and my upturned face contemplates an orange moon. This week, there was even a blue shooting star. It was startling, and beautiful. . . A blue fireball crossing the sky.
We look at the stars and point at them wondering whether they are planets. Is that Venus? Could that be Mars? Oh, look, it's moving! I guess it's just an airplane. . . And then I write. And daydream an awful lot too. My stories become cold. My characters are cold. They are freezing. Snow flakes burn their skin, just like mine. But they don't mind it. They are alive. . . we're alive together.