Today was probably one of the coldest days this winter here in Baltimore. One digit. As I move on the surface of snow, wind blows with force, hitting my body without mercy. One step, another step, running becomes a slow dialogue with snow and wind. Wind still keeps coming and the exposed skin of my face manages to responds by hardening its surface. I'm almost out of breath. My feet receives the freezing coldness of snow, slowly becoming numb. The boundary between inside of my body and outside stimuli becomes blurry. My whole body starts tilting forward to compliment wind and snow. It's a strange dance. I think of people who lose their lives in the severe snow in mountains. I think of a Japanese ghost story, YUKIONNNA (snow woman) and how the travelers get wrapped up by her white kimono as they embark on their journey to the other shore. I embrace snow's shamanic mischief.