To the snow.
And, otherwise, it was an obnoxiously conspicuous answer. So I just opened the door and went out despite the snow. As Lenore was standing outside, facing her back to me, I watched how her scarf was bouncing in the air, catching solitary iridescent snowflakes, telling tales of cold days, as the time passed by. Her vest was swinging to the rythm of air. Somehow, I felt she was feeling cold, she was not wearing as cozy clothes as she should have. My eyes photographed the instant, making it infinite: how the sun’s refracted light went through the snowflakes as they fell, revealing its real identity, uncovering the true colours which were hidden to the offended. Lenore standing still, not mumbling thoughts, but channeling the sadness contained hither. She knew it, all of it. Furthermore, she did not need to comfort, as in regards to what was happening it was pointless. Photographing moments, events, birthday partys, career graduations, somehow feels to me that paints them with melancholy and self-conciousness of fleetingness and ephemerality, remorse, nostalgia and a bit of sadness regarding to what has been lost and is, as a matter of fact, irreplaceable and irreproducible. This moment was one of those. Ironically enough, by this point my own story narrator was sweating heavily despite being in the snow. Lenore has a quintessential soul among my acquaintances. She utterly managed to read me completely from head to toes, and as I was there, underneath the snow, I knew we had more than a connection. An unusual blue bird perched himself on a branch of a nearby strong willow. His sight was drawn to the scene he fortunately encountered in the backyard of Lenore’s. He was witnessing how victims of their own posession could continue to survive in the path of life together, striving and thriving. My heart abruptly stopped for two seconds or seven hours when the scarf of Lenore unwrapped itself off Lenore’s neck and came flying towards me. As I catched the scarf with my left hand up in the cold snowy air, she began to turn herself to me. As hard as I tried to keep looking, the snow was falling so brutally heavy I could not see, with no space and time proportions for it to happen. The sun shone as bright as never before. It felt surreal, I was blinded and just photographed the instant once more.