When i step out of the apartment each morning the coldness blasts itself fierily upon my cheeks and I feel a surge of happiness (that surge of happiness, happiness, happiness) and excitement and I feel like I’m stepping into a magical world, a world of snow-covered streets and bare trees. Streets of white. I can hardly believe I’m here.
I walked along such beautiful streets each morning :’)
Looking at the children taking out their sleighs to play, making snowmen, throwing snowballs stirs such strong emotions of envy within me. What have I been missing out on? Sure, I have my fair share of summer fun, but this… it was so amazing and magical and lovely and they’re so lucky to be able to experience this. I think I feel this way because I’ve always read about them in books, watched them in films, and always wanted to do the same – to play in the snow, to make snow angels, to have snowball fights – I want to take out my sleighs to play when it begins to snow! I want to cheer loudly when I wake up one morning and the streets become a blanket of white, and to plead my daddy to bring me out to play. To get excited over the white cold fluff.
There is something magical about the tiny white flakes falling gently from above as you walk down the streets, the white frostings peppered on the branches and barks of trees