Sometimes, life seems meaningless. I fight a lack of progression in my mind, behavior, and relationships. Is my growth done? If so, I am going to leave. I would no longer inflict pain. My vices would become an ineffectual memory.
The light reflecting off the snow is enough to support a high fashion photo shoot. My house has six bathrooms, a butler's staircase, and a ballroom. Not to mention a vault as big as your garage.
Pictures sometime when I can, if anyone looks at this enough to care.