A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.
As a girl, I used to zip myself into a snowsuit, fall into the deepest snowdrift I could find and sweep my arms and legs into the powder, making snow angels that would crumble within minutes of their genesis. Despite their rapid disappearance, something about these frozen, evanescent angels has stayed with me ever since.
You are everything that's ever been my favourite thing," she wanted to tell him. "You're my love song, my birthday cake, the sound of ocean waves and French words and a baby's laugh. You're a snow angel, crème brulée, a kaleidoscope filled with glitter. I love you and you'll never catch up, because I've gotten a head start and my heart is racing at light speed.
What, are you doing? Aside from getting your sandwich cold." "I’m making a snow angel. Don’t you know what that is?" "Yes, I know. But why? You must be freezing." "Not so much, actually. My face is a little, I guess.
Okay. Now you have to move your arms and legs.” “I know how to make a snow angel.” “Then do it! Otherwise, you’re more like a chalk outline at a police crime scene.
Until you announce me as the #1 contender for the WWE Championship, I suggest you watch me make snow angels.
Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?
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