More on meteorology

A hard frost is in the making as a I walk, underdressed, from the bus stop in Ursynów with a subzero draft whistling around my neck. There is an opaque white sheen on the car windows, a glittering in the grass. Ursynów is no fairy wonderland but this icy gleam transforms it. I can’t prevent myself from squatting down amongst the kebab wrappers and dog shit and running my fingers along a blade of grass to scrape off the furry rime of ice. As I walk on, I feel its slight stickiness on the soles of my boots. The tunnel of the metro beckons with its exhalation of warm air.