Our street was so much wider and longer than it is now; the houses so much taller. Night had fallen, and mother and father had brought me out into the cold darkness to see the snowfall. All was still and quiet, the darkness embracing the houses on the street with no trace of malice. No light came from the windows, save from the electric candelabras which mark the approach of Christmas in every Swedish home. The streetlights shone with a warm orange that I still remember today as fire, a comfort amidst the silence of the snowy street. The stars could not be seen; instead, there was only falling snow dancing in the black night, gently coming to rest on cheeks still untouched by age.
[TALE] First Memories of Snow
[TALE] First Memories of Snow
[TALE] First Memories of Snow
Our street was so much wider and longer than it is now; the houses so much taller. Night had fallen, and mother and father had brought me out into the cold darkness to see the snowfall. All was still and quiet, the darkness embracing the houses on the street with no trace of malice. No light came from the windows, save from the electric candelabras which mark the approach of Christmas in every Swedish home. The streetlights shone with a warm orange that I still remember today as fire, a comfort amidst the silence of the snowy street. The stars could not be seen; instead, there was only falling snow dancing in the black night, gently coming to rest on cheeks still untouched by age.