Snow. Watch how it falls, delicately and determined, blanketing everything in a slow silence. See how it covers the earth gently, flake by flake—collecting silently over the houses and the streets. People come spilling out of their warm houses and are gathered up into December’s arms.
There’s something special in the stillness of these mornings where you can see your breath escaping into the cold. Walking among the crowd in all that whiteness, one begins to leak distinctions, to lose their feeling of separateness, and melts into the soft, psychic collective.
Photograph by Lycurgus S. Glover, Winter Morning, Corner of Second and Canfield Avenues, Detroit 1905.