It’s snowing and it’s warm. It was raining water yesterday, the promised storm morphed into drizzle – still it was windy and umbrellas went crazy as they could withstand none of that gale force – now it’s snowing, white fluffy balls, irregular in shape, swaying softly in the warm breeze, nothing compared to yesterday, translucent cotton, while green has never been so green because of inhibited sun rays behind scattered clouds. It’s snowing pollen, loads of it, and it sticks to your face and clothes, it covers the streets, it glides through the open windows of buses and trains, underground a little of it squeezes its way and amasses under subway seats, waiting to be released at stops only few people get off at. It’s all white it looks like a modern fairytale and the tram wires create sparks which could easily set ablaze these little fleecy things. But they never do.