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FIRST SNOW By Shushan Avagyan There is a bustle in the air, a rattling, a soft commotion, clouds gossiping in espionage as Yerevan breeds quietly with gray - Could I be a spirit trapped in a statue, white covering my toes? Looking up - the sky is solemn, filled with easy dancing flurries that separate us - they condemn this marriage of fast melting heartbeats, brusque slaps on my naked face that sometimes hurt, especially the ones spinning the eye - like icicles from fairytales, so I ignore the laughing doilies that resist and stay, clinging to my bronze shield as surrogate drapes. -- Shushan Avagyan was born in Yerevan, Armenia. She is currently working on her master's degree in English Literature, and is a recipient of the Dalkey Archive Press fellowship at the Illinois State University.