A cold evening, the first snow of the season has fallen.
I get a coffee and look at the powdered streets.
With the coffee comes a glass of ice cold water.
The market is a dark row of tarps and stacked crates.
A cold evening, the first snow of the season has fallen.
I get a coffee and look at the powdered streets.
With the coffee comes a glass of ice cold water.
The market is a dark row of tarps and stacked crates.
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