April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots and spring rain.
~t.s. eliot, the waste land

It was late afternoon in 1991, when I noticed that the window in my room is covered with what seemed to be like a thin layer of flour. I went out to find out what’s happening. It was like snowing, but the falling specks was dry and not cold. I also noticed that the car parked outside was covered with what looked like confectioner sugar. I wiped a …