I sat on my knees on my clumsy, old bed and opened the curtains. The scene beyond was breathtaking. I watched a snowman shed from heaven above and paint this remarkable scenery. I rested my elbows on the cold, badly painted window sill and watched the scene of freedom. Each snowflake fell ever so lightly, like a feather from a bird's wing. The delightful snowflakes hit against my window and melted in a quick second. The road was quiet, street lights on with one flicking. Everything was being buried by small pieces of punched holed paper. The scene was intense, mysterious and wonderful at the same time. Suddenly, a strum of a guitar sounded and the whole scene started pushed away and turned into a rock concert.