March 25, 1889.
The wind was so cold, so keen, that it cut like a whip, that it cut through every thread of clothing, and through every fold of fur.
There was no shelter from the storm, no place to hide from the cold.
The wind howled like a pack of wolves, it whistled like a train, it screeched like a thousand banshees.
It was as if the very gates of winter had swung open, and the cold had poured in like a flood.
I wrapped my coat around me, and my hat over my head, but the cold still seeped in.
I felt like a frozen statue, a statue of ice, a statue of stone.
The cold wind was a living thing, it had a spirit, it had a will.
It blew and it blew, it howled and it whistled.
I could feel its breath on my face, I could feel its icy fingers grasping at my clothes.
I was a tiny, insignificant thing, a mere speck of dust in the face of the cold wind.
And yet, I felt a sense of awe, a sense of wonder, at the sheer power of the storm.
It was as if I was being swept up in a great vortex, a great whirlpool of wind and snow.
I was helpless, I was powerless, I was at the mercy of the storm.
And yet, I felt a sense of freedom, a sense of release.
I was free to be blown about, free to be tossed about like a leaf on a windy day.
And so, I stood there, frozen in the face of the cold wind.
I stood there, my feet rooted to the spot, my eyes fixed on the horizon.
And I watched, I watched, as the wind howled and the snow swirled.
It was a sight to behold, a sight to remember.
And when it was all over, when the storm had passed, I felt a sense of peace, a sense of calm.
I felt as though I had been reborn, as though I had been given a new lease on life.
And so, I stood there, frozen in the face of the cold wind, and I felt alive.
"The wind was a living thing, it had a spirit, it had a will." - Anonymous
Resumen de autor: La experiencia de estar en el medio del torbellino de viento y nieve es una sensación única, que combina miedo y libertad, y que puede dejar una huella duradera en la memoria.