Cinematic Moment #2: Snowy Lamp Light

I began my trek home from my safest haven, the library, a warm, quiet, and friendly place, other than the fact that they don't feed you and the drinking fountain only spouts semi-cold water. But it was very cold outside. There was stale fallen snow (related to freshly fallen snow, except it's stale). I followed the Mainstreet for a couple of blocks until I finally turned west to my home. I crossed the wet, muddy road swiftly and slowed to a walk in which I was weakly lunging forward each step to cross through the snow. The Wind picked up and blew northward, pulling faint dunes of dry, icy, snow. I pulled my beanie down over as much of my face as possible and I wrapped my arms across my chest and nuzzled the bottom half of my face in the little pocket of warmth my upper limbs could provide. Only my eyes were naked to the biting cold, and I continually glanced at my surroundings as I footed home. Everything was dormant, both the houses and the streets. The snow and wind had driven everyone indoors with their relentless striving to engulf all who venture in the domain of the outside. But I was still outside. I pressed onward to get to my own abode. In the midst of the discomfort, I looked up while stepping off the corner of one block. I noticed the stalwart lamp light loyally lighting the way to give guidance to the local residents. It was a familiar sight. The same forsaken yellowness and the barrier from the stars the light created were similar. After a moment of reminiscence, I again placed my head in my arms, and resumed treading home.