No matter which way the wind blows,
or how the snow lands on your lashes,
inside your stormy winter roads,
out here in the dust and frozen clay,
you are hell-bent on survival,
because the camera loves you.
No matter which way the wind blows,
or how the snow lands on your lashes,
inside your stormy winter roads,
out here in the dust and frozen clay,
you are hell-bent on survival,
because the camera loves you.
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a little bird tweets 
This poem really resonated with me. I’ve experienced all those sensations during many winters, and your words brought them back to me, real and vivid. What does the last line mean? Where is the camera. Is it a selfie, is it someone photographing you, are you starring in a major motion picture about winter survival? :>)
Thank you so much. The protagonist is the photographer who describes everything here 🙂 I’m glad it resonated with you.