February is long, dark evenings with blankets, candles and dreams.
Fingers going numb while scraping ice off the car and moods swinging with the temperature - sullen frustration with wet slush, crystal joy with ice cold sunshine.
The silence of snow. The silence of a society between party seasons, working hard, staying indoors and trying to survive. The comfort in hearing the unmusical chirp or squawk of one single magpie or sparrow. Longing for the cold of January or the warmth of March.
Body lotion, remote controls, woollen socks, sneezing. Pale skin, vitamin D supplements, bottles of wine, heavy boots. Gym bags and irregular sleep. Dragging oneself out of bed in the morning and seeing the southern sky a little brighter than the morning before. Trying to locate lip balm or a lost glove or one's will to live or just one more piece of chocolate.
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