But all this - the mysterious, far-reaching hair-line trail, the absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all - made no impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a newcomer in the land, a 'chechaquo', and this was his first winter. The trouble with him was that he was without imagination.
- Jack London, To Build a Fire
WORK IN PROGRESS ESSAY