Interlude II

"Day after day / Alone on a hill / The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still."
- The Beatles, The Fool on the Hill

That night I worked on the machine.

I loved the feel of the pipes and wires in my hand.

The were fitting together, there was a harmony here.

Each piece would be a part of a greater whole; something vibrant, alive, and they were already vibrating in anticipation.

Or perhaps my hands were shaking.

I knew with certainty this would be my last attempt.

I was close now, and I was not afraid.




Wikipedia has this to say on the subject of snow. Snow, it says, is a type of precipitation within the Earth's atmosphere in the form of crystalline water ice, consisting of a multitude of snowflakes that fall from clouds. Since snow is composed of small ice particles, it is a granular material. It has an open and therefore soft structure, unless packed by external pressure. Snowflakes come in a variety of sizes and shapes.

This is what it doesn't say. To make a snowflake is the hardest thing in the Universe. A real snowflake. Not a knock-off, a fake, a pretender. A truly unique pattern of frozen water molecules. Something beautiful. Only one thing is more difficult: infinite snowflakes.

A snowflake is much like a person. I used to tell myself that sometimes. It was a banal platitude, so easily torn down, so flimsy and without meaning. A person cannot be a snowflake, but perhaps - perhaps a person can make a snowflake.

And so tomorrow I will continue . . .