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A kind of wind-whipping suburban desolation here. The people back at the party started a bonfire, but you can't even look at them right now. At least the cold wind really gets you.
This guy might get you too, but he's off alone in his own field, shivering (and, weirdly, also sweating).
Bjork actually uses a sample of snow shoes crunching along in this one and it sounds, like, crazy refreshing. I want to do that with my face.
Nuclear winter is also a valid. Let's get our filthy coats out and push a shopping cart towards the fabled coast. Doesn't that sound nice?
Wherever she is right now, Karin Dreijer is freezing.