thus, i continue enjoying the art of writing letters.
supping my coffee, cuddling my ..whatever they`re.
i adore our winter all over again, when the sunsets are clean,
when the air bursts through your body along with cigarettes.
when you can dream about the short coming time at the sea.
or about how you go to Scandinavia for your summer vacation.
maybe, either George will get his mill in the very end or not?..
(catching up with Steinbeck)
and everything is charming.
as only January can ever be.
i already spent all the gold on shopping,
so now i can have my still life as it clearly is.)