Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon - the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last ligth to write you.
~ Jean Webster
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It's not snowing where I am.
(Note: If Jean Webster and I were pen pals, I'm not sure if she would write me back.)
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