It had been snowing all morning and, with trepidation and excitement, she put on her new boots, duck-down jacket, wool gloves, old brown scarf and beanie and ventured out into the white world.
This is what she learned about snow that morning on her way to the faculty:
it lands and settles everywhere, even on tree branches and garbage bins;
dogs go crazy in it, running, jumping, rubbing their silly wet noses in it, absolutely delirious, like a teenage pop star in a Ferrari;
it stains yellow (see above, re dogs);
flowers peep out of it, when they can;
it crunch, crunch, crunches when you walk.
Stopping at the traffic lights at Vukovarska she noticed a snowflake in the hair of the woman in front of her. She leaned forward. Against the black of the woman’s hair, she could see the tiny white snowflake very clearly. She took a sharp breath: she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She leaned in closer.
The woman turned around. “Što radite?” she said. “What are you doing?”
“There’s a snowflake in your hair!” she said in English.
“Well, of course,” said the woman. “There is a snow in your hair too,” and she huffed off across the road.
Snow in my hair? she thought. She looked at the long brown strands creeping out under her old beanie and yes, sure enough, there were snowflakes in there, too.
She stood at the intersection for 2 revolutions of the lights, looking with amazement at the flecks of white in her hair. Snowflakes, she thought, over and over again. Who knew? Snowflakes look just like snowflakes!