Snow falling on ceiling

January 8, 2008

Already pajamaed, I watched fat snowflakes land in succession on the glass ceiling over my head. Sleeping? Impossible when there was such unstoppable falling.

I thought about sneaking downstairs barefoot, just to see if anyone was around to share the view, but decided to sleep on it instead. When I awoke a few hours later, the snow still poured down.


  1. It reminds me a little of the last line of Joyce’s “The Dead”:

    His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

    Have you read that story?

  2. Falling snow should be shared!

  3. Radium, I haven’t read it — I’m embarrassed, a bit, to admit that hole in my reading. It’s a gorgeous line — I’m honored that my story reminded you of it!

    Kären, I wholeheartedly agree.

  4. G, Relative to Joyce, I’m a little embarrased, too: I have a copy of Ulysses *and* a guidebook to it that have been gathering dust on my bedside shelf for the longest time.

    The weirdest thing with Joyce is how, simultaneously, his language manages to be exceptionally beautiful, hard to understand, and hard to understand you don’t understand. How many times must I have read that passage, over how many years, before I realized that it was full of alliteration, chiasmi, and that snow cannot be “heard” falling.

  5. Radium, I don’t know…I feel like I’ve heard it falling, although I guess I’ve really heard it landing. I love that quiet outdoor near-tinkling sound that happens as the ice crystals settle together.

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