All week in the sign of closure, the city is quiet, empty streets. People walk by quickly, no one stops. Atmosphere like under a totalitarian regime, so scary.
It's finally the weekend. I can't go anywhere, movement is allowed only on the territory of our village. Fortunately, it's big enough. My head is full of ugly thoughts. I need somewhere up, up the hills.

I climb higher and it starts to snow. The snow falls thickly, as if it were the deepest winter. I'm going and I'm going. Snow flies around me and the wind finally blows away heavy thoughts. I'm fine here. It's me again. Mountains, wind and snow, it all heals ...