A friend suggested I should read this book, and based on the cover alone I most certainly will at least accuire it as soon as possible. Then reading the first two lines of the synopsis, I understand completely what she means: "February is persecuting the townspeople. It has been winter for more than three hundred days." This morning walking to work I felt I was officially as fed up with winter as is humanly possible. I don't have it in me to fight it off anymore, I've exhausted everything I had. I've dressed well, stayed indoors as much as I could, tried to keep warm at all times, thought myself to happier places when things felt too gruesome. Now at least the light is slowly returning, and I appreciate that, I really do. But it's not enough. Not enough by far. We need this snow to disappear now, we need warmth, we need other colours surrounding us but white, filthy gravel grey, and brown bare trees. We need to be able to smile at each other in the street, not hide our faces in knit scarves, forcing our ways against whipping snowflakes, hurrying to get inside as quickly as possible. We need spring. I need spring. I need to know this winter will not last forever and a day longer.
Otherwise I will disappear into fiction again, there's no other way round it. By the way, the beautiful cover is made by Ken Garduno.
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