Voice Post

[a_close_shave]

Winter in London--cold, awful biting weather, with no heat, no proper clothes...no luxuries given here, not in those times. And here I sit, by a window of our livingroom, in comfortable warmth with a cup of steaming tea, watching the snow fall.

I suppose nothing here should be taken for granted.

And there--[chuckles] The children, playing...a bit of

Comments

[written_rancor]

It's going to be short-lived anyway.

[a_close_shave]

Little doubt of that...it is nice, however.

[written_rancor]

If you find that sort of thing nice, I guess.

[a_close_shave]

Not a fan of the snow?

[written_rancor]

No.

[a_close_shave]

To each his own, I suppose.

[written_rancor]

I mean, it looks nice, I guess. I just hate being cold; it's such a terrible feeling one equates with general negativity.

[a_close_shave]

It does have that foreboding feeling about it. Many associate death with cold..

[written_rancor]

It reminds me more of loneliness.