love and slush puddles - by Helena Fitzgerald - Griefbacon

everything turns gross pretty quickly

this is going to be so disgusting in a few days It’s very early in the morning and the snow isn’t ruined yet. It will be by the end of the day. The dug-out streets will crumble and grey at the edges, staining black from the city’s untraceable filth. The parts that don’t melt into slush will start to freeze into ice boulders, and the beauty will turn over into inconvenience and disgust. The thing that made the landscape beautiful will ruin it; the thing that stopped my heart will get in my way. It’s coming; the point of snow is that it turns to shit. But for now it’s very early and still…

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