Average Jane


When you think about it, there’s nothing quite like a blizzard: trees whirr in the wind, limbs snap, snow drifts built, cars driven by the brazen slide like toys along empty streets, and people become trapped in their homes by nature like dolls in a dollhouse. But looking out at the storm from inside your warm, peaceful dollhouse, it still seems peaceful; a blinding white wash that shields you from the impending destruction that the storm surely will bring.
Millions of little white snowflakes, each distinct in their size and shape, intricately designed, become a force of nature that blinds those trapped in it, those trapped in their homes, those trapped in their own little worlds.

Snow in itself is beautiful, but a blizzard in all of its magnitude is… treacherous.


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