"I don't know why we are here, but I'm pretty sure that it is not in order to enjoy ourselves." Ludwig Wittgenstein

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Diamonds and Snow

On the day of Christmas eve, Lola walked alone, along the empty beach in Santa Monica. It was 78 degrees, and the bright warmth made her feel like she was living in unreal world, where the temperature was completely incongruous with the winter season. As much as she liked LA—its exotic sprawl and its indistinct, cement ugliness—Lola missed Boston and the paper-white snow that she knew today would be blanketing her hometown.

As her bare feet tread along the warm sand, she recalled Boston’s sharply cold winters, and how as a child, she loved wearing layers upon layers of clothes---not just to keep her warm, but to protect her from something… something vague and undefined in the world. She recalled how her layers of childhood coats and sweaters and mufflers made her feel like she was wearing the protective armor of a Medieval knight---how she felt metal plated and impenetrable.

Turning now, to look at the sparkling gray green-waves as they charged toward shore, Lola found that she missed the sight of freshly fallen Christmas snow, which, as she remembered it, would shine more brilliantly than the diamonds in the crown of any fairytale queen.

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