An article describing cold weather

It's already winter, and only a few leaves are hanging sadly. Winter here is gray, including gray days, gray fields, gray grass, and of course trees and leaves. Everything seems to have lost its vitality, just like there are few pedestrians on the road to the end of the world. Even if there are, they are in a hurry and rush to their respective life goals. The floor is as hard as brick. I walked on this huge brick and my feet lost consciousness. I can't feel my feet touch the ground, only hear the sound of touching the ground. Every small water point in the fog is like a sharp point, sticking to the biting wind and sticking to the face. What falls on the hair turns into ice slag before it soaks into the brain skin. What falls on the plants is not frost, but a transparent layer of ice. When I got home, I glanced at a duck standing on one leg, but didn't see its head and neck. Then I jumped into the house and stood motionless by the blazing fire.