It was snowing when I got out of work tonight and still snowing when I got out of the subway 45 minutes later. New York in a snowstorm is beautiful, peaceful. I walked up the hill to our building slowly, surreptitiously catching snowflakes on my tongue. I stood outside the building for awhile, watching the snow lit up by streetlights. Everything was quiet; the street was still. I looked up, let the snow fall on my face. I stood and watched and heard myself think.