Friday, February 19

03:28 am - The world outside looks like a sepia-toned photography...


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.

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