Dear Winter

“How come snowflakes can be this beautiful?” Falling free from the sky as light as a feather, flying to every direction, landing on your hair, your shoulder, your gloves, your bag, your boots and on the streets. You look up to the sky, squinting as the white flakes fly at your face. You stick your tongue out and feel so happy when you catch some. Hmm. Tasteless. But icy. You walk slowly, wind in the face, your hands in your pocket, hide your nose behind your thick scarf it’s hard to breathe, your legs cold and numb, bending and shivering. But he’s not getting any kinder. He’s only getting colder and colder and colder.

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January 25, 2011. Tags: . personal diary.

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