# 86 Pure White Fur

Do you have a crystal ball?

We do and will tell you, within a hair, how much snow you will get.
This will not be ordinary snow, but blizzard snow. It will pour and pour like an endless bottle of champagne into a delicate flute. It will bubble and flow and instead of gold it will be white. Pure, endless, bubbly white which has a frothy cap: it will tickle your nose.

It is impossible for snow to fall into a champagne flute without spilling over and will, ultimately, bury the glass completely. Flutes will sit on the reservoir path buried in snow. Rows and rows of flutes fill with sparkling blizzard snow. No one will see, hear or feel them break when they walk on the snowy path which is hip deep. It is completely silent and blinding white; like walking into the middle of a cloud in the middle of a city. You will think it is a dream except the ducks floating by are dusted with snow and they are wading faster than you can walk.

They are real.

You have had a hard day (week, month, year) and sleeping will not remedy the residual ache. You come back inside after crushing thousands of champagne flutes on the path and the wind has scratched your face numb. Like cat cow cat cow you start to forget to think and it's pretty cool.

There is no forecast to predict this feeling.

You walk into your room and sitting on the bed are two cats covered with snow. Their ears are peeking out and they stare at you and blink in morse code (which you cannot decipher, but know that they aren't thinking either).

They look at you and stretch. Their bellies are pure, white, innocent fur.

Snow. Fur.

They cannot speak and you know that you are still in the cloud and the endless kneading paws will scratch the surface of your skin and will not leave a trace. You are kissed over and over and over.