I opened up my door and there he was.
I've missed him, I thought he had disappeared for good. But like always, he suddenly appeared from nowhere knocking on my door.
I could sense his excitement by the way he was knocking; there is a story to be shared/heard tonight.
As he steps in, the orchestra in the background starts to play Tchaikovsky's winter daydreams and my room turns into a winter paradise, floor cold as frozen lake and my bed is a pile of fluffy snow, I'm still bare feet in a t-shirt.
He sits beside me on the snow pile and we look up... the night is beautiful. There is no colour to be seen, just sepia-toned white snow and dark night. And he starts his story...
He'll stay beside me rest of the night, keep on telling me beautiful stories. But in the morning when I wake up he'll be gone and like always I'll wait till next season for his tales.
