I remember the first snowflake of winter. I caught it on my hand and examined it close. It reminded me of my childhood. It reminded me of my mum wrapping me up in layers of jumpers, scarves, coats and hats. It reminded me of dad taking me out in my sled and urging me to catch those snowflakes with my tongue rather than my hand. It reminded me of a wonderful childhood winter filled with cold snow and a warm family.
The snowflake melts as I try to grasp it tight. I catch another with my tongue and it tastes electric. With the snow coming down thick and fast, I think of moving and grasp my rucksack in hand. I stuff it with a sleeping bag, newspapers and scraps of food. Not the essentials of my trip but the only things I own. I need to find shelter before nightfall.