Winter in Hangzou

The scene in front of me seemed liable to vanish altogether, such was the paleness of it all: the surrounding hills, even those in the foreground were devoid of form and the dullest of blues; the willows were dead and wept the loss of their summertime wisps; the sun barely bothered to part the clouds, content for formality’s sake, on sending out a few effete beams. And the lake, reflecting all this as it ought to do, found nothing worth exemplifying in its stillness, dutifully bowing to the bareness of it all so that above, around and below were equally as lugubrious. O’ winter!

by Marcus Bechelli

(prompts: lake)

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