Walking to school with my friends, we'd all plop our galosh-covered feet in half-melted snow puddles, and step lightly on top of sidewalk-ice, putting just enough pressure on it to move around the air bubbles inside. And who can I pay to equal the fun of walking real slow on newly fallen snow as cold drops dripped down the back of my neck, listening closely to that low crunchy sound coming from somewhere just under my footsteps. For hours, when I was six, I'd do these things. File:Db824a1e2a6390a885472c75792d6f9d.gifand reverted to his primal nature.