It falls on my eyelashes, on my fingers, on my shoulders, cold but surprisingly warm inside. I love these moments when the city slows down, and the air feels playful, free, and a little childish.

I imagine myself laughing, hiding behind the corner of the house, sculpting an imperfectly shaped snowball and throwing it defiantly. The snow crunches under my feet, my cheeks burn, and there are sparks in my eyes. At such moments, I want to be not a serious adult, but a lively, real one, with a sparkle in my eyes.

Tell me honestly…
would you play snowballs with me for real, with excitement and laughter?

Ulyana ❄️