It was a great weekend in my new city of New York, and a great way to start the new year and new aspect of my adventures.
I hadn’t been in a blizzard since I was 6 years old, so when word of the impending snowmageddon was headed my way, I went to my local REI pusher and bought waterproof pants and snowboots. I wanted to experience a blizzard, and was not disappointed.
Heading down the Hudson river early in the afternoon, snow was blowing and piling up.
With other modes of transportation out of the question (and with no jeep/snowboard combo), hoofing it, my preferred means of transport anyway, became the only option.
It was cold and the novelty of walking around in whiteout conditions soon began to wane. The wind kicked up and it was time to seek shelter.
Sunday morning, I awoke to a new city.
A trek from the northeast to southwest corner of Central Park showed me a side of NYC I’d never seen, a respite in the middle of the city, the city I now call home. As if to show its softer side, someone hopped the fence and cleared the snow off Ghandi’s head, and later in the evening set up a little shrine in the East Village.
Actively Dying 