The wind is trying to
creep under my clothes and claw my skin with its ice cold nails but I
go on. I lift my head towards the sky and look up at the tree tops,
the snow painted in summer afternoon colours although it is the
middle of the winter. I am not as alone as I would like to have been,
even at this early hour of the morning. But if I am in the way for
other, faster skiers, they only have themselves to blame. I mean, who
gets up at 9 on a Sunday morning to go skiing?
Maybe they,
like me, like the way newly prepared tracks crackle under your skis.
It's not even noon and
I've gotten my exercise for the day. Yet, who wants to stay indoors on
such a beautiful day?
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