He wished that the snow would fall again. Only days before he had longed for the sunshine, thinking then that all would remain as it had been between the two of them. In the spring they would gain new freedom and find themselves together under the sky and on the waters. They would listen to the same songs. All would go naturally. The great wall between them had been broken down so thoroughly that he had till now forgotten that such a wall ever was.
But now the door that had opened had closed again. Now he remembered that wall that had kept him away. Now there was, once again, nothing more real than that wall.
In April the snow fell once more and at moments it whitened the air and the ground just like those days in January when they walked together. And now he looked upon the spring snow in hope; hope that their season would return and that they could again walk together in the cold and white. That would be enough, he thought. There would be no reason to want anything more.
But this new white would not last. Not even for a breath. This storm was but one more step in the passage of time and the march away from what he had known, what he had longed for, and what he had believed in.