Snow

The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver. If this were the beginning of a poem, he would have called the thing he felt inside him the silence of the snow.

O. Pamuk

That's what I call the thing I feel inside today too. Silence after the yesterday's storm. I only have to catch up with my sleep now and I also have to let the snow wash my brain, my emotions and my dreams. I'll be brand new, I promise.