Snow
How is it snowing? It is summer. Hot summer. It never snows here, not even in the coldest of winter days.
Ah, the snowflakes do not melt as they touch the skin. They are not ice. They do not glisten in the dull white.
Ash. White ash from the fires that surround the city, whose bright burning tendrils reach into the edges, send glowing embers into the green pockets so they may destroy from within.
Nowhere is completely untouched by the fire. Even the air is thick with its exhalations.
It does not snow, it will not snow.
It only burns.