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In the winter of 1908, I was born. That day, the wind roared more than usual, and the house creaked. Mother was worried that the doctor wouldn’t come in time for the main avenue was covered in multiple feet of snow.
The day before was clear with the sun hanging low in the horizon, snow flurries flying here and there and laying lightly on the buildings. St. Stephen’s Cathedral never looked so beautiful, standing there in the snow, its high waves standing dominant and tall like a metal god before its worshippers.
