Snowcapped

Less than a centimetre of snow layered the grounds of Lulu Island in the sunny morning of the 24th of February of 2022. I took a long route going to the pizzeria, over the vast, whitened school field, which seemed like I was walking on a different moon or planet. I viewed the northern snowcapped bluish mountain range. At the pizzeria, I ate two slices and drank a black effervescent diet drink, whilst I was watching on the big screen the usual morning talk show The View before eleven o'clock. Whoopi Goldberg, who was the mystical black bartender character Guinan in the Star Trek franchise, co-hosted there. Today's guest was Marlee Matlin, a deaf American blonde actress, who knew American Sign Language. She looked like my high school French-language teacher Mrs. Lowry. Meanwhile, in the pizzeria itself, a slender hooded black girl entered to order pizza.

On the 26th of February of 2022, I tried to keep my day simple. Before dawn, at the corner convenience store, I drank a cold canned Thai tea drink and ate a pizza submarine sandwich. In the chilly, grey-sky morning, I headed to the cafe, whilst I practiced meditatively by scribbling Japanese Kana glyphs on my hand with a finger. I drank iced black tea at the cafe, whilst the typical early-morning clients were there, a Caucasian and an Oriental. A robust man in a black, red, and white jacket and dark-grey rugby pants entered to get coffee and exited, as he talked on his smartphone. Homebound, I took the long route across the vast green school field, seemingly an Animist-Buddhist experience of being on a different planet, the northern snowcapped bluish mountains being visible beyond.

In the morning of the 27th of February of 2022, on my way out of my Lulu Island house, I saw my neighbours the redhead Rochelle of Russian-Mennonite ancestry and the grey-haired moustached Al from the Anglophone section of Montreal; he was from many generations of Canadians. He said that he did not know French, when he lived in Montreal. I ate a slice of pesto cheese pizza at the pizzeria. The vendor was from Mumbai. Through the window, I could see a young brown-blond-haired man in a dark-grey hooded jacket and blue shorts, which made him look like a "big boy." At the cafe, there was an under-age-30 crowd of ten outside, of whom one looked like a handsome Jew. Inside was a table of five or six over-age-30 people, of whom one was a handsome tomboy in a dark-green jacket and army-green pants. I drank my iced black tea. Heading out of the cafe, I saw the "big boy" smoking in the wooded park. I took the long route home, through the grassy school field littered with goose poop, the northern snowcapped mountains obscured by clouds, an Animistic-Buddhistic view seemingly of a different planet. Near my house, parked in a truck were Olivia and Daniel. Olivia was studying Biochemistry. In the back seat of the truck was a fully black German Shepherd.

In the morning of the 5th of March of 2022, I ate at the pizzeria and drank iced black tea at the cafe, where Rob with now long brown hair, with a black sweater and orange worker pants, entered to greet me and Don, sitting at separate tables. A brown man in a white T-shirt and sleeveless black vest came to get coffee, his muscular arms writhing. I spent a minute in the woods. As I approached my house, I waved to Derek my Filipino neighbour in a green tracksuit, his mesomorphic silhouette showing. In the sunny afternoon, going back to the pizzeria, I saw, on the other side of the main road, a whole Jewish family with children, all wearing Sabbath synagogue attire. I waved to Gurpreet the Sikh at the gasoline station. At the pizzeria's front, a thickset bicyclist in black parked and locked his bicycle. I ate a pizza slice and drank a cold diet cola. Northbound, homebound, I could see the snowcapped mountains. Near my home, I waved to my Fijian multiracial neighbours, the grandson Darius and his grandmother Moli, whose name meant "orange" in Fijian.

This majestic mountain range in the heart of south Asia is crowned with snowcapped peaks and draped with vast glaciers.

Some of Taiwan's mountains are snowcapped in the winter.

I had simply rounded a corner and smacked into […] a stretch of snowcapped Rockies so intricately cragged and utterly enormous that every time I rediscovered them, I had to slow down and gawp at their impassive beauty.