It’s snowing gracefully: big snowflakes are falling in an abandoned waltz, full of tenderness, losing themselves in the big white sea laid on the sidewalks since yesterday.

Footsteps are losing themselves through the almost unscathed snow, but they aren’t your footsteps, nor they are mine. I wonder who do they belong to!

But this question does nothing more than changing my thoughts, because your footsteps are now losing themselves somewhere else.

I am watching impuissant the footsteps in the snow,and I’m angry; I’m angry at everything: the wind, the snow, the earth, because they are around you, and they’re always there with you, while I’m watching through the window how it snows gracefully, and big snowflakes are falling in an abandoned waltz, full of tenderness, losing themselves in the big white sea laid on the sidewalks since yesterday.