We were promised snow, but no snow fell. This, then, in lieu.
Ludovico Einaudi on Nightbook:
A night-time landscape. A garden faintly visible under the dull glow of the night sky. A few stars dotting the darkness above, shadows of the trees all around. Light shining from a window behind me. What I can see is familiar, but it seems alien at the same time. Its like a dream—anything may happen.