New York in the snow is a juxtaposition of forces. The big snow storm that recently took hold of this town cast a 24-hour spell: the most dynamic, noisy, chaotic, versicolor town was suddenly choked in white stillness. It was therapeutic to go out onto the bare, carless streets and lie in the middle, dead center. To walk out the front door and listen - to strain a bit to hear anything except the soft snow fall. To watch the layers of New York muck sheathed by a huge blanket of pure white. Really something else. I think a snow storm like that - 3 feet of snow - isn't more impressive anywhere else.
Colette and Romy had been dreaming of snow and we promised when they woke up the next morning there would be a world of snow waiting for them. They had all sorts of ideas about it - Romy was obsessed with consuming it, "I eat snow" over and over again. Colette wanted to spend all her time "luge-ing" (French for sledding, but with an English twist). She also informed us that in order to build an igloo, all we would need would be eggs and glue (pronounced by her: egg-glue) and then we could live in the snow like polar bears.
At night after we put the girls to bed, Xavier and I snuck out to go sledding down the hill at Hamilton's House, stand in the middle of the street and have a snow fight.
