A pant of misty smoke tickled my nose. As I looked through the befuddled window of the cottage next to me, a cheerful and love family were huddled around a fire singing.
Children and their devoted parents burrowed in their snow-covered homes waiting for the next release of magical snow to fall beneath their eyes. Young children in their bold, primary-coloured puffer-jackets formed masterpieces from the unstarred snow. I recalled my friends and I being so eager to clop into the dense, pure layer of snow, outside of our houses, when we were younger. We would leap with happiness, ecstasy and dead on tar let down delight. Scrumptious smells of warm, fresh soup dispersed out into the unfastened air, filling my taste buds with tender memories. As I went sticker inside from the terrace I stared at my desolate home. nix but unfinished recollections filled my mind. Watching the peaceful context of use outside gave me a surge of hope and freedom.
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