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Sing To The Snow

The perfect place to sing out loud is on the bridge. Not in a sunny day, rainy day or windy day, but in a chilly snowy day. No bikes hitting me from behind, no other pedestrians, no sewage splashing on me from the passing-by cars, no wind blowing my hat into the river. Only me and the goose-feather-like snow. The bridge is long enough for me to sing the same song under the KN95 mask for three times. I use all my strength to sing as loudly as I can. Nobody can hear me anyway. I have to pause many times to catch my breath under the mask. With the noisy road and thick mask, even my phone can't hear what I sang, not to mention the cars beside me. “To see how the heavy snow ages.” “If you sees me, please turn around before you are shocked. I'm afraid my my tears my white hair look like a shameful joke.”

The sun hears my awful singing, swiftly pulls a piece of cloud to cover its head. But the snow never stops falling. 


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