Do you recall those moments where it is Winter? All you have or want to put to your name is a deliciously warm blanket and your favourite book. Then all of a sudden that cold day out in the middle of who knows where has melted into this cosy buzz, and a warm oasis that could melt the coldest of hearts.
The strands of your hair react like live electric wires prompted by the static in the air as if they were quarreling lovers. And you cannot help but laugh at the reflection or sight of your hair. Not hysterical laughter because we aren’t wicked witches whose spell went wrong, its simply having such a care free attitude and pulsating a charge.
Returning to the blankets it is as if the whole world is sanctioned into a book, placed face up between the tissue box and pillows just waiting your return for that final chapter.
And finally the moment comes – that moment where you close your eyes in time with the leather bind and linger, immersed in the oasis created by a stranger for you to enjoy. The force-field of utter happiness seems all too serene to be true.
Winter is my favourite season, just as he is my favourite friend. This is what I experience each time he takes my hand or my lips, glances at me out of the corner of his eye for a moment, or if I am lucky enough to spend the night encompassed by his charm. Each time my chest fills with that cosy buzz, and as I close my eyes I can almost lose myself to the world founded through him and lived by me.