been on a jet plane for Movie propland was shelter for four of us as a blizzard-twister corked the patch of tundra in.
"What's going to happen to yours?"
"My what?" The girl asked as she unlocked her snow boots and put on soft leather slippers.
"Your people?"
"Don't touch my butt." Hard objects were rapidly removed by each person and put behind. Slightest changes in temperature can crack most of these metals. We'll put them near the glass, then acclamate them to body temperature.
"They're not really mine anymore." She showed thread-sewn to the inside of a tank top strap, a wedding band. "But look at this footage before the film disintegrates.".
We watched, enthralled at the hypnotic motion of the spirals and other dancing maneuvers.
"What was it?" Oh, that's cold. "And you put these between your butt cheeks." The waistbands were opened by others' hands, the depositing of survival rations inserted by selves.
"It began in a safe zone, where ta-trib-TAXES had been paid so some locals, very few, could participate in a festival. The festival's outcome ensures nativity later in the seasonal cycles."
"But?"
"But the Saint's dowry was needed for children. So..."
"Oh no, don't cry. You'll lose body temperature, plus the ice crystals can get through your ducts into your blood stream as air bubbles. Everybody calm, focus on breathing." The lashes of wind stalked across the plateau and passed over us but not without lacing the glass into a fogging/freezing etching of nature's fury.
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