Sometimes, when it's stormy outside and I'm alone listening to music, my mind drifts to an unkown mountain in an unknown place. The sky is always the darkest grey, so stormy and sinister, but it's completely calm and still, although in the distance I can hear the faint sound of the wind moving through the trees. Beneath me is a perfect, un-broken cover of soft, fluffy snow. There are dark green fir trees everywhere, along the sides of cat tracks and bordering runs. They are blanketed in snow, and are sagging a little under its weight.
I stand alone at the top of a run, my goggles snuggly in place, my face completely covered by my bandanna which tucks up into my helmet at the sides. The cuffs of my jacket fit over my gloves- there are no gaps anywhere - I am completely disconnected from the elements. I feel so warm and snug because although I am surrounded by snow, I cannot feel the slightest cold in my cozy shell.
I have headphones on under my helmet, and I am alone with my music. I can feel the comfortable pressure of my board strapped tightly to my feet through my boots. Looking down the mountain, the trails are dotted with log buildings, their eves over hanging with icicles, and their rooves covered in a think layer of snow. Hidden from view down the bottom there are more buildings, given away only by the warm orange glow of streetlights and fireplaces, and by the dark grey trails of smoke drifting skyward in the still alpine air.
But I stand far above the people and their happiness, in my own world, alone with my music and my snowboard. And at that moment, taking it all in before I turn in to start my run, there's no place I'd rather be.