Ever since I came to the Czech republic 16 or so months ago, I've had an intermittently recurring thought: that it would be great if one day I can recite the first few words of Good King Wenceslas (well, those that I can remember), and get to the line where the snow is described as 'thick and crisp and even', and look around me and say, 'yes, as in times of yore, so it is now'.
Well, you've guessed already that that day has come- today- and thankfully I recalled this little whimsy, which gave me great satisfaction. I love snow- the thicker the better. I love that sense that the old life is being obliterated and that somehow an older one, but a purer one, is being imposed upon it Why older? I suppose because transfiguration of this type is timeless, unlike ordinary landscape alterations. It always seems to be one of the greatest architectural wonders when the contours of the world are reconfigured in a kind of wild rococco white, smooth and billowing, airy and light while blanketing and cosying the land. It gives a kind of relief which darkness, though able to hide a person, and render society somnolent, never can. There's the hush, too, of course; and the purity, and the feeling that we're surrounded by a benign sea frozen in waves across the land. The typical paradisical thoughts which made it hard for me (an 'ed', after all), not to sympathise with Edmund in enjoying the company of the White Witch in Narnia.
So, despite the fact that my damn Prague internet providers are behaving like the prosecuters in Kafka's The Trial, with me as K, I am still moderately mellow- thanks to the snow (however, being cleverer than Kafka, my prosecutors er, providers, leave me unsure whether I am not in fact K in The Castle) Thanks, snow, for mellowing my harsh. Or 'snih', or whatever they damn well change it to for the case I've just used.
Of course the vandals (or are they huns?) are out there already, spraying their salt somewhat impotently and driving their big cars in convoys up and down our street to pack down the snow for some reason. Why can't they just walk, like me? Or take the bus, as I eventually do, or the tube, which I finally reach. Why can't they, in short, just be me. That would solve a lot of problems. I am a great self-hater though.
Well, you've guessed already that that day has come- today- and thankfully I recalled this little whimsy, which gave me great satisfaction. I love snow- the thicker the better. I love that sense that the old life is being obliterated and that somehow an older one, but a purer one, is being imposed upon it Why older? I suppose because transfiguration of this type is timeless, unlike ordinary landscape alterations. It always seems to be one of the greatest architectural wonders when the contours of the world are reconfigured in a kind of wild rococco white, smooth and billowing, airy and light while blanketing and cosying the land. It gives a kind of relief which darkness, though able to hide a person, and render society somnolent, never can. There's the hush, too, of course; and the purity, and the feeling that we're surrounded by a benign sea frozen in waves across the land. The typical paradisical thoughts which made it hard for me (an 'ed', after all), not to sympathise with Edmund in enjoying the company of the White Witch in Narnia.
So, despite the fact that my damn Prague internet providers are behaving like the prosecuters in Kafka's The Trial, with me as K, I am still moderately mellow- thanks to the snow (however, being cleverer than Kafka, my prosecutors er, providers, leave me unsure whether I am not in fact K in The Castle) Thanks, snow, for mellowing my harsh. Or 'snih', or whatever they damn well change it to for the case I've just used.
Of course the vandals (or are they huns?) are out there already, spraying their salt somewhat impotently and driving their big cars in convoys up and down our street to pack down the snow for some reason. Why can't they just walk, like me? Or take the bus, as I eventually do, or the tube, which I finally reach. Why can't they, in short, just be me. That would solve a lot of problems. I am a great self-hater though.
