A dismal melting reality of dirt and grass dominates the slopes of Italy's Gressoney resort. A dedicated few patiently wait for a storm that could possibly save the season with meters of snow. For days there is nothing, but at last, as night falls, thermometers drop, and minds drift in reverie toward the possibilities locked in the coming snow.
'I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind.' - Ayn Rand, 'Atlas Shrugged'