quote
We were listening to music—
a little Bach, a little mournful Schubert.
For a moment we listened to the silence.
A blizzard roared outside,
the wind pressed its blue face to the wall.
The dead raced past on sleds,
tossing snowballs
at our windows.
Adam Zagajewski, “Blizzard”
09:43 pm: mezzoforte

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