It's quiet in Zurich. The snow dampens the voices of the city and the streets wrapped in an unusually thoughtful tread here whisper. The people are warm at home in their rooms and are happy not to have to get out. On the roofs of the houses, the chimneys smoke in the night sky, the heavy, but looks bright, bright as anything else, because everything is white.
People love the snow. Everywhere it causes delays, accidents, additional costs - but no one really likes to complain. This morning I thought the tram on many faces does a childlike joy at this rare white winter garb identify. Many are expected to have to remember their childhood, the sledge and snow ball fights, snow to the men and the thousands of possibilities to allow us to Days provided where there was snow and invited to play.
Also I like snow. Most of the walks on snow, the unique crackle under your feet, the virginity of the world around me, and the rest, the silence.
Everything is white, that's cool and easy. And everything seems the same light, which is in its simplicity, extremely exciting.
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