From the confines of a chrysalis in a frozen reprieve, I see life beyond breaths that would go unnoticed in warm air. In this place, there's hope without resignation, though it doesn’t shine like the sun in the summer and it doesn’t pull the way you expect it to when you’ve nearly given up. Instead it rolls in on fog, crystallizes on branches, alights on shoulders. Hope here is a fragile fight, one that's silent and steady, persistent and palpable.