Winters

Everything was still. There was a mist of mystery in the air, making my vision of reason faint. This mist was seductive in its own way. It sent a surge through my body, making me quiver with a strange feeling. And when I felt the surge move through my body, I knew the time had come. The time had come for the best part of the year, winters.

Winters are beautiful in their own way. Everything is peacefully pleasing. All the agility of nature acquires a sudden calmness. The commotion of the fierce rain comes to a standstill. The blooming flowers acquire a state of sleep; as if being tired of beaming for the whole year and now getting the chance to be at peace, finally. It is only the magic of winters which make even the unpleasant things seem beautiful. I now crave for the sunshine which tormented me until a few junctures ago. Even the mankind stands weak to the glories of winters. Those who are in the constant quest for something, suddenly seek their household fire; such is the power of winters.

This is the time of the year when I can cover every inch of my skin, like my soul, and not be questioned by anyone. I can stay huddled up in the blanket, with a Murakami book and a cup of coffee, just how I like it. Oh how wonderful it would be, being overpowered by the feeling of love of Watanabe. Well certainly it would be wonderful if I had you by my side through all of it. But then you are one of those who would rather build futile snow castles rather than building some everlasting castles of memories, so I do not expect that from you, like all the things of course.

As the nature goes to sleep, everything comes to a standstill, I rejoice. Because finally it is my time of the year.