You are. Here. Snow falls on your hair, your face, on the blossoms you are photographing with your phone. It is May 1. May 
Day. Somewhere, celebrants circle a May Pole, twining ribbons into braid – pink, pale green, pure white. Somewhere the weather is as expected.
Tell us a story about a wo/man/you, about walking out into impossible weather, about how you’ve come to understand that you need the impossible in your life. The impossible becomes a redemption.
You know what to do. Have fun.
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