more than two decades of ski writing, ski teaching, and ski publishing by Lito Tejada-Flores
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The corridors of our labyrinth are all
downward spirals, white on white.
We inscribe the same patterns in light
powder or hard blue ice. Under tall
pines we glide, weightless & dumb, small
almost imaginary beings. No rest at night,
we dream this same white dream. Who can fight
the snow? who choses where to fall?
To repeat oneself forever, up & down,
is purgatory, but to love it, to accept
this white puzzle of snow & tilted space...
In such a maze who can accept or reject?
It’s all the same: mountain, plain, country, town.
We would be no freer in any other place.
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