Snow Storm


…The flakes fell softly, beautifully at first. We raised up our hands like children remembering hope. Delicate and silent, they fell and balanced on our clothes. Little cold stars dancing lightly on their way to earth. But then the wind rose up against them and began to whip them in mad spirals, freezing, invisible hands slapped our faces, harder and harder. The sea was lifting up and the boats began to tilt, first in time with one another like a song played by the water, but then a wave broke under the wind and knocked the rhythm off. Boats that just yesterday were cutting through the water were now being tossed around like sticks, jerking left and right as the waves rose up and up and the snow became a mad white spirit beating them against one another…

(Extract from an anonymous letter in the museum, Widows’ Row)

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