The good cold.
You layer up. You step out. And the moment you feel that snap of air across your face, you remember.
This is the good cold they talk about.
The kind that sharpens, not numbs. That keeps you honest, not hiding. Not punishing. True and just. Matter of fact. The atmosphere around you maybe a bit damp
Wind pushing without making a point.
The world just waking up or winding down. It's hard to tell.
There's a simplicity to it
The streets are quiet. The world cracks underfoot. And every breath feels like a small proof of effort. A moment to take stock, to move forward without chasing speed or distance.
After all, a season is all about presence. About clarity. About putting one foot down and moving forward.
Because that's all we can do.
