But it was new now, all of it -- cloaked in a white so pure as to be vaguely menacing. No street or sidewalk beneath me, no fire hydrants. Nothing but the white everywhere, like the place itself was gift-wrapped in snow. And it didn't just look different, either; it smelled different, the air now sharp with cold and the wet acidity of snow. And the eerie silence, just the steady rhythm of our shoes crunching underfoot. I couldn't even hear what (people) were talking about a few feet in front of me as I got lost in the whited-out world.
-John Green (from the book Let it Snow)
