Winter became a soliloquy to Adam; this is why no two-snowflakes are alike. It’s a reminder that Adam was governed by a method of unconscious decision and randomness. Feel the snow; old man winter was the medics carrying support on a moving stretcher. He was the roar of the midnight breeze and cracking of branches beneath the campfire. He was the quiet light and moon of stars arising via the Auroras and beating drums of electricity in a blizzard storm. He was the icicle along the wall of the barn at the countryside yard. He was the golden stream in the solitudes of the tundra night. He was the fierce eyes of despair. He was the fathomless rays of polar flames that purged over darkened night of the southern Arctic circle.