我出生在嵩山脚下的一个小城市，印象中，故乡的冬天总会下几场鹅毛大雪。常常是一觉醒来，往窗外一望就发现屋檐上、树丫间乃至整个天地都是白茫茫的一片。顿时，早起上学的阴霾就会无缘由地消失，心情变得雀跃起来……

I got out of bed to see what had happened in the night. I was thirteen years old then. I had fallen asleep watching the snow falling through the half-frosted window.

While getting out of bed I remembered how, as I was nearly asleep, the night outside the frosted window had seemed to burst into a white jungle. I had dreamed of streets and houses buried in snow.

I hurried barefooted to the window. It was scribbled with a thick frost and I couldn’t see through it. The room was cold and through the opened window came the fresh smell of snow like the moist nose of an animal resting on the ledge and breathing into the room.

I knew from the smell and the darkness of the window that snow was falling. I melted a peephole on the glass with my palms. I saw that this time the snow had not fooled me. It was still coming down white and silent and too thick for the wind to move, and the streets and houses were almost as I had dreamed. I watched, shivering and happy. Then I dressed, pulling on my clothes as if the house were on fire. I was finished with breakfast and out in the storm two hours before school time.

The world had changed. All the house fence and barren trees had new shapes. Everything was round and white and unfamiliar.

I set out through these new streets on a voyage of discovery. The unknown surrounded me. Through the thick falling snow, the tree house and fences looked like ghost shapes that had floated down out of the sky during the night. The morning was without light, but the snowfall hung and swayed like a marvelous lantern over the streets. The snowbank already over my head in place glowed mysteriously.

I was pleased with this new world. It seemed to belong to me more than that other world which lay hidden.