My head is numb.

I sit in the library coffee shop at seven thirty ante meridium.
Outside it is minus twelve degrees celsius - feels like minus twenty one.
I put my name on a list - I'm number five.

The moon was so big and round this morning - the sun looks small and weak. I was outside in the moon's blue cold light - the sun's incompetent rays fail to fool me. They hit me in my eyes - wrap around my hands as I type - but they can't fight the moon's leftover chill. The sun's rays convince me of their beauty, but not of their warmth. They are prudent on the this side of the world - saving their generosity for my delhi's winter months.