0

The upholstered, Humberous carriage of a car rushes madlong through a night of infinite snow ^___us inside, against the back. Stood behind the frontseated emptiness, a small boy in bare pyjamas ^___ghostlit by faint flare^___ urges and cries our driverless peril on. In the windscreen hurl silent galaxies of nameless snow, careering and warping down long tunnels of molecular nought.

N'yet...no. The enwidened car spans stationary. Snow only, shivers and sheers. The boy of me in front drums desperate howl upon the seatback ^___there are too many of them! Too millions of floundering flakes to set them in Time.

They slutter their useless souls against the glass.