Winter Air

There is something special about the winds blowing in winter. Something Romantic, relaxing, very ethereal. It somehow beautifies everything as I felt while crossing a bridge yesterday. A slight fog hung in the air making the view hazy and everything even more otherworldly. It didn’t seem like the view from the same bridge which I cross so frequently. Yes, the pollution was there. Yes, the slums nearby. But the river running by with the line of trees in the distant. The faint outline of a mosque. People selling hot corn on the roadside. As if everything and everyone had slowed down, enjoying the winter air, even the cars passing by had sort of a slackened pace. Everyone seemed to be absorbing the tranquil peace of the chilly evening. As the wind blew against my face, ruffling up my hair and I raised my hand to settle it back, I could almost touch the Winter Air. Almost. If only I had reached out and touched it, I could probably have broken a piece and kept it with me as a source of comfort in those trying times. It was almost tangible and I knew then that every single one of my dreams had the power to come true if only I’d reach out and have the courage to touch them. A man riding a cycle with his wife sitting coyly with him completed the picture…

Answer to last week's QOTB:Global warming is an increase in the average temperature of the earth's atmosphere (especially a sustained increase that causes climatic changes).