Part 1: Minerva- Chapter 1

When winter descends, do you hold fast to the memory of boundless verdure, lamenting the withering splendor, the harsh cold winds driving us inside? Or do you welcome the relief from the stifling clamor, grateful to be able to see through the trees? It seems impossible to remember by October what we felt in March. What we do remember seems to only justify the brilliant bloom of death & the silence of ice.