The second day, it is harder, down-trodden with an icy edge. Glints spark off surfaces, everything seems new, just slightly used. The urge to play, to slide, to throw, tweaks your insides, twitching at every street corner.
By day three you're sliding backwards more than going forward, or simply cold feet. Wet too. The winds are not so much of change, but of mind-numbing dread each time you poke your head out. Fresh - think frozen.
You may have wished for this, make sure you appreciate it, and know when hibernating from your own desires is the best thing.
