chromatic fantasy-feud morning
promised chinook have returned to warm the frozen ears and piggies of banff residents. the ground melted and have shown what kind of things ice was busy gathering- children's treasure: rocks, branches, odd trinkets and sparkling bits of things. and they are left in very nice neat piles over the gentle dents on the sidewalks. as nature called, ice just left its toys where they are and went, probably hoping to come back to play with them later. the white snow carpet that hides no one's track also have disappeared. now everyone can walk anonymously again, not being able to be tracked. just muddy tracks and small pebbles underneath the socks. how did they get there every time? only tracks that are left are left with some definite sense of pride: like gigantic pile of animal-processed plant fibers that one finds in the trails. the trees have shed their icy fleece on the top of the mountains, baring its barks, tough and resilient, cracked in various rhythms. i kind of like the...