...Telling things and stopping living nothing to imagination. The thing is that there have been so many things, that the problem is to not know where to start. The trick? Learned years ago at college, from the words of a wise man:
You have always to go from particular to general. Advancing little by little and
unraveling a mystery.
So I’m throwing myself into the void:
Morning. Brightness becomes noticed by caressing my eyelids. The knot of sheet doesn’t protect me against the cold, but having it tight around my body makes me feel good. The wood floor creaks in time to the steps of those who are already awake. Sound of cups, water… and a line. A line that succeeds in getting a half-sleep little lazy girl out of bed. A line that has been successful for years, no matter how early it was. Two words that always cause the same effect: Creaking of springs, struggle against blankets, cold barefoot in the cold floor, a race through the window, a nose against the glass, a smile in the lips. And the result is always the same: coffee smells better, toasts are even nicer, and silence- that embraces everything around, fill the ears of those who want to listen.
It is still a magic line, even in a different language.
It’s Snowing!.
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