I hardly see the sun, so all three months I have a polar night. I love winter ... 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, I dressed warmly, open the window wide open and listen to the even hum coming from the avenue. All living things slow down, time stops, the 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 a cup of tea with honey and lemon in my hand, I am wearing a warm sweatshirt, a white snowy desert is spreading in front of me. For me, it is a symbol of eternity, calmness, constancy. Paradoxical as it may seem, but in winter there is much more warmth, much more calmness 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, search for money for gifts, inspiration, fireworks, a moment of happiness, new hope. January - calmness, crunching 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.

There is a lot of good, correct meaning in all this. For me, anyway.