Winter

Last week we reached a park. At first shy, then bolder, approached me a crow. Did not seem sick, just curious. So curious that after I studied a little laces started to unravel to me.

It's snow again in Bucharest. Global warming can wait.

Yesterday it snowed. And I remembered other times, they just lifted me in this world, the grandparents' house in a village lost in Baragan. When was fire in the stove cracked, and there were flowers in glass ice, and snow drifts that reached the eaves of the house, and horse drawn sleigh.

Today, radiators, windows and cars. No snow is not what it was.