Trackless Trumansburg
This, to me, is how a winter morning ought to look.
It’s a photograph of Cayuga Street this morning, at 5:35 AM. Early Monday, a fresh snow covering the pavement, without a trace of any car having run across it.
Someone was there shortly before me. The footprints, walking, undisturbed in the street, are not mine.
Where was this person walking to, at such an hour? Where was this person coming from? Anybody care to tell a story?
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