I love winter more than the rest of the year - summer is too much fun, spring is too much hope, autumn is too much worries; in winter everything seems to fall into suspended animation, pretend to die, hiding in warm burrows. I like this game, dressing warmly, I open the window wide open and listen to the even hum coming from the avenue. All living things slow down, time stops, snow shimmers under the light of hanging street lamps ... There is a lot of beauty in this, but beauty is not a bright, joyful, gushing palette of emotions. This is the beauty of calmness, the knowledge that after the ice melts, everything will accelerate, turn around.
I have been looking out the window for three months. In my hand is a cup of tea with honey and lemon, I am wearing a warm sweatshirt, a white snowy desert is spreading in front of me. For me, she is a symbol of eternity, tranquility, constancy. Paradoxical as it may seem, but in winter there is much more warmth, much more tranquility than ... than anything, I guess.
Each long winter month has its own unique shade of soul for me. December is the beginning of cold weather, bustle, joy from the first snow, worries and troubles, anticipation of the holidays, looking for money for gifts, depression, inspiration, fireworks, a moment of happiness, new hope. January - calmness, crunch underfoot, steam from the mouth, frost and sun, warm scarf, chapped lips, do not look into the eyes of passers-by, rather get home, movies, dim lights. February - the most severe frosts, more sun, strange holidays, warming, slush, anticipation of warm, spring days, bringing incomprehensible, hurricane of happiness and new hope.