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[ Fresh white, pure snow doesn't exist in NYC which makes sense considering that the city itself is neither clean nor pure. It's loud and dirty and sinful, and Witch Baby loves the way exhaust fumes and dirt colour the snow. But she won't deny that there is something magical about those 3am snows where for a brief moment everything is semi-white and still.
This is one of those snows. Lily grabs her winter coat and cat-eared hat, and heads for the street. ]