White cold beautiful
The other night I have dreamed I was assigned to live on my own in a remote small medieval city in the hills. It was deserted and the snow covered abundantly the gardens, yards and cubic stone alleys. It smelled like the houses of my grandparents in Timisoara. I had an armchair and a pair of speakers, they were in white yellowish ivory-like plastic, like those huge antic piano-radio receivers, only smaller. The whole thing was beautiful, cold, silent and very very lonely. Then I woke up rested.
