Lying on my Mother's couch looking at the grey and white landscape of swirling snow outside. Quiet. Alone. I could still be sleeping but here I am enjoying a quiet that I have not heard in a very long time.
"Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it."
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
2 years ago