Photo credit: Margey Autero, from a photo gallery on Cleveland Heights Patch It snowed all day in Cleveland. Not blizzardy gross heavy snow, or scary violent winter storm snow, just a steady, patiently relentless stream of soft, quiet snow. The sky is white, the ground is white, the trees are white. Sometimes what was coming down looked liked fluffy chunks of cotton candy, giant conglomerations of snowflakes all stuck together. In summer this would be the kind of all-day light rain that sends me into a kind of ecstatic melancholy, so it only makes sense that I would like it in winter too. And, it is good at this latitude for winter to be winter. (Not that I would want to run in it .) I finally, finally watched this video of Junot Diaz speaking at Google about his writing ( Drown , Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao , and This Is How You Lose Her ) and the state of literature in general. My friend Jane, who is not a writer but is an avid reader, sent it to me months ago. It is hard ...
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