this is me being poetic

According to some mythologies, salt is harmful to witches and warlocks. A ward against them. I saw that in a film once. I thought of the film today when walking back to my dorm. They put salt on the streets in wintertime. Thousands and thousands of tiny flecks of it, sprinkled in the asphalt cracks. You can tell where the snow has dissolved the neatly processed pellets. Puddle shaped markings spread across the sidewalks in dandruff white. In other places, the pressure of footsteps has ground them into the cement until the walkways are bleached and dry, and the air begins to smell like stone. Some ice still remains, of course, but it is strangely eroded at the edges, where the salt has taken it's toll.

Perhaps it distracts me from the cold to remember old movies. To think that I walk on consecrated ground.