I’ve seen you, your work, and your mind. You made me feel every possible emotion that exists. In a funny way, it is the same as dying; at least, that is what I expect dying to feel like.

It is in your reflection that my mind suddenly rests at ease. In your reflection, I was born.

And in the winter, we should not forget to take our vitamin D pills. But I would try to catch snowflakes and draw a silhouette in the first thin snow of the year.

Probably it would be your silhouette, and I would try to fit in all my emotions again, only to understand that snow will cover it up either way. It’s in the winter that we fall sick; it’s in the winter that runny noses and the sounds of coughing mouths make up the general noise of human existence. Winter is not a time of the year, I believe. According to the ice in my eyes, it has to be an emotion! Explain that to me! Just as I believe in a certain death, I refuse to think that colder temperatures are the reason we strip naked.

It’s in your mind that I got a glimpse of autumn, summer, and spring. It’s in your mind that I saw trees vigorously bending in the salt-drenched wind for the first time. I must look stupid with my eyes closed, head snapping back, mouth wide open and tongue out, but I need to catch a taste of the salt in the air, or maybe even catch a snowflake! Just imagine a snowflake falling on your tongue for a second, and then tell me again that life is not truly wonderful. As a kid, every winter felt Siberian in nature. The snow was always meters high, and the sun was not seen for days. As a kid, winter felt like role-playing survival; now it actually feels like survival. We built castles in the snow, defended them to our last breath, and shot with imaginary little finger pistols. As I said, it was survival!

Now your reflection made me slip. It made the ice in my eyes melt and let the salty excess water drip down my cheeks into your folded hands. We were kind of far apart, but your skin still felt like a warm oven on the

deepest winter night. Spring must live inside winter; of that I’m sure. Like watching a frog in autumn and already being able to see spring. Make my skin stretch so it can find your warmth through the distance, and watch frogs with me in the autumn. It has been cold all along, and I could use some warmth. It is never in the war itself that we dream of peace, but in the moments between life and death that we mourn the absence of peace-filled moments.

I don’t want to die; I think no one does. But I don’t want to continue living like this. And I’m scared of spring.

You see, I don’t have all that much of a choice. I leave this choice to my body, but it would rather sleep and hide. That’s why I ask your projection. These are lavender-scented moments of despair, judging by the way you twist your mouth. I bring you flowers and dead animals; you smile.

I ask you to never forget your vitamin D pills in winter and to check your vitals at the doctor. You know, low potassium can be really dangerous. I’m scared your swollen face will bring you to dark places, and when there is no more light, I will miss your tender reflection.