Pouring rain stopped drumming the windshield. After reaching a certain altitude, it turned into snow. I was driving on Highway 89 from Utah to Nevada. I pulled over and stepped into the silent landscape. Frosted red mountains at the horizon marked the end of the pale open field. A sudden flurry of snow alerted me to the subtle movement of an animal in the bush. It was a cottontail rabbit. O there, I found its tracks on the blanket of snow, slowly fading away. After a long walk chasing its ephemeral trail through the blizzard, I stood still and came to realize: this vanishing was not the trace, but the moment.