When I closed my eyes, I saw figurines and silhouettes of people I didn’t even know existed.

I saw their head shapes and their teeth, but mostly through an x-ray-type of lense. I saw their jaw and bone structure, as well as, their frizzy uncombed hair. Their bodies and their features, moving along, floating through an undefined space.

I captured their movements and judged their clothes. The movements were static and the clothes unichrome. Everything was black and white, but mostly grey. As soon as I tried catching a detail, I failed. The shapes and silhouettes shifted with such a swiftness, I couldn’t keep up.

The snow outside, the sudden emergence of something so calm, tender and superfluous, left my eyes wandering and my mind imagining. It put me in an unhinged state of “should I meditate?” or “should I rebel?”

The people in my mind transformed into beings of their own. Some transformed into blurry creatures, some vanished into the darkness of my eyelids. These people have made their way into my subconcious through the gateways of ocular perception.

The snow, and the sudden emergence thereof, drizzling and softly landing on all surfaces, created an image in my head. An image of reflections of people, who don’t even exist. Or so I thought.

The snow, despite its peaceful flakes, caused an unhinged uproar in my imagination, by watching it slowly and carefully descend, but with an almost suffocating pressure and silence.

This suffocating pressure formed shapes and silhouettes of people I wanted to forget. But the tenderness of the snow reminded me of all the things I thought I have forgotten.

The snow made me see all these grey patches, so I could finally forget that they even existed, and watch them turn all the images into the whiteness they were always meant to be.