I stand at my window, and the sun warms me. Slow clouds scatter over a faultless, crisp sky. Below me the snow is sparkling, the world turning - the buildings sharpen, the road arches, and the stripped tree branches crackle. Steam rises, and people are walking in rhythm to a turning fan, a stop light changing. On the table, olive oil glistens clear, below in the parking lot snow melt trembles in cement cracks. I glow, I shift my weight, I am gone.