The freezing ice claws of the wind keep leaning onto your body, sharp tiny snowflakes falling down on your face immediately melt upon the touch of your skin. It's cold but you are burning inside.
You are standing on the slope's horizon of the highest peak of the mountain. In deep February you are here alone. It's just you, silver sky, silence and the frost.
You pull up your scarf to cover your whole face and look down the slope marked as difficulty **BLACK**. One small move further and you are falling down the hill's chasm. But you have no fear, you rode this many times today and as many times each day before.
This is the moment, you breathe in, weigh over to your front leg and tilt down. One last second of stillness, before..
...The wind swiftly wraps around your body as you start piercing through the freezing mist of the hill. You forget to breathe, you stop thinking, you ride.
Each second you ride faster, carving quick, perfect cuts in the snow. You are in a perfect sync with your board, bound to it, leading it downhill in perfect symphony of body moves.
This will take but a few minutes before you reach the bottom of the hill.
But here, for now, it's an eternity. And it's all yours.
