While I lay in bed last night, eyes closed, coveting elusive sleep, the world beyond my fifth-floor apartment was sheathed in imperturbable white.

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Trees that yesterday were tolerated sidewalk obstacles—unembellished, ignored—were now wondrous exhibitions, worthy objects of marvel and admiration.

More than one wrought iron fence transformed its employment from convenient bus stop prop into holy sculpture, inexplicably invoking hushed hallelujahs.

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I joined them sleepily, trudging reverently, to my train.

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