He eats the snow, my baby, with that flash of curiousness in his eye, thousands of unique snowflakes in one bite, cold and fresh and tasty. A whole universe in his little mouth. I did the same. Amazing things happen when you follow children. I pressed my hand into the glorious whiteness. It was superbly soft, tempting me to dive in. I resisted. Already cold, I dreaded the chill would reach inside my clothes and wrap itself around my neck and spine. Heavily pregnant, I knew it would take a lifetime to heave myself back to standing. So I stayed on my feet, this time.
Snowflakes sit in Rasmus's messy hair and beard. He seems at ease with the snow and yet admires it still. August and I are a little less settled. Walking awkwardly and maybe more cautiously than necessary we must look out of place. Our eyes constantly blinking as the soft flakes brush our faces. I savour the feeling. The stillness and quietness is surreal. One day the world is grey and overnight it is transformed into something beautiful and enchantingly unrecognizable. Shimmering with a magical effervescence as soon as the sun rays touch or the street lamps pour their golden glow over the ocean of white, it really is something exceptional.
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