As a horribly unreliable photography, let me make a picture in words.
This morning as I rode in the first row of the shuttle to get to campus, my usual seat, we passed shop after shop where men, and in some cases children, were digging their way out of the recent snow. The trees glistened with a heavy white outline as if some ambitious painter in the night had attacked the city with the only brush stroke she knew, bold.
One by one, each shop keep shoveled, tossing forcefully into the rode before the oncoming vehicles. The snow, though it has its charm, is a burden to business, to development, to life. The puppies in the neighborhood attest to this with their huddled bodies. My feet, soaked through with frozen water, despite the thick socks and plastic bag wrapping, are visceral reminders of the difficulty presented.
Kabul in the snow shows nature’s disinterested cruelty and overwhelming beauty.
It looks a lot like Cleveland.