The snowfall began early this morning, but the real storm has yet to begin. As I write to you, the hour of daylight has passed, the street is empty, and everything is covered with snow.
The lights from windows inside the neighboring homes all shine in a way that only comes during wintery moments. They shine through window curtains with a soft, yellowish glow, which describes an inside warmth to oppose the outside temperature.
The streetlamps stand in place and light the street with a halo around the head of its glowing body. The snow is falling heavy and coming down in an angle, but overall, the worst is yet to come.

The weatherman says to prepare for Continue reading →

The songs I love most are songs that were written long ago. They have history to me. They connect me to different periods of my life and give depth to the times which I keep in the archives of my memory.
I remember a winter day from my youth. It was cold and rainy. I decided to take a walk to the record store because there was nothing else to do. There was no one else around—and even if there were—no one was interested in walking in the rain.

I was young and my hair was somewhere between boyish and bowl-cut to becoming decidedly long. This was not an easy thing for my parents. They did not like long hair. Most of all, they did not like long hair on me. They did not like the way long hair looked. They said the did not like what it represented . . . but I did.
I was Continue reading →

It was an early morning in the town of Garden City. The sunrise had already begun and the empty winter branches of rounded-shaped trees were like black veins in the eye of a bloodshot sun. There were no clouds above my town to project the colors of dawn—there was only a soft pink hue extending across the horizon with fringes of purple at the edge of its reach. Morning was in full swing and the night before was at its end.

After a long night in the city, I drove home Continue reading →