It is here. The dreaded minuses. That chilled wind attacking you as you painfully plow through the Montreal city streets. The cold that has you talking to yourself. Muttering to yourself as you trudge on broken ice and crunchy snow. You wipe the tears as they stream so they can't freeze and leave icy build up like clear war paint. In your immediate view are puffs of frosted air in contracted intervals. You can not change expressions without discomfort so you keep a tight face until all is relieved. The swoosh of the doors of Pharma Prix. After the pass the soggy wet mats warm air will relax you face, hands and body. walking through the isles is like a mini vacation from your awaited walk home.