A picture of home.
Growing up in Canada I must have walked past this scene thousands of times in my life… unconsciously.
A dusting of snow interrupted by tire tracks, representative of daily life for many. Maybe a cup of coffee in the hand, seeing your own breath and an agenda. Somewhere to be and a window scraper to be found.
And now, because I am currently a visitor in my old world rather than a resident, I notice such things. Nostalgia meets artistic appreciation I guess.