Translated by Marvin Najarro
During the winter the sky wraps itself in a grayish tone, and the dense clouds descend to wander the streets of the big city; an icy haze that causes the disenchanted passers-by to regret that season they call bad weather.
The mood is low, flu picks up, and depression becomes the malady of the season. People are often seen cursing the cold wind, the accumulated snow, the gray days, and the thick flakes when it starts to snow. In their anger, they are unable to enjoy the magic that nature gives them: an impressive spectacle that should charm everyone who witnesses it.
But the beauty of the snow, of its fluffy carpets on the roads, the white canvases in the open fields and its coating of the bare trees in the parks and flowerbeds, does not manage to surprise the morose mass because the sun and the heat have vanished and with them, the parties in the open air, the light clothing, and the perennial torridity of the state of excitement that sex has in the summer.
But of course, sex is enjoyed in the summer; when skins sweat in the hot weather; when eyes say what the lips can not; when the lovers dance excited with the batucadas (a substyle of samba) calling to copulate; when with the slightest friction the bodies ignite in passion and summon the flare of desire, so that two, three or whatever, burn in the fire of passion.
A passion that in wintertime slowly morphs into stillness; more of the soul and the spirit; more subliminal. Its charm is different, more genuine, and generous; it is instinctive and only few have the privilege of enjoying it. It is imperceptible for those who are unable to contemplate in the snow the majesty of the essence of nature which is the essence of the human being, because we are all part of a whole; we all linked together.
The cold season has its own dwellings, attuned to the transparency of the soul. It is a season of quietude, to internalize and admire in distinct landscapes with different cloudscapes and forms, how privileged we are to be able to enjoy a season that constantly tells us that everything changes in life, and that with changes we learn; we let go; we write, erase and rewrite our personal and collective history.
We create; we enthuse ourselves; we become disillusioned; we trust again and love in a thousand ways, with a thousand names and build ourselves, inch by inch, as unfinished human beings, because our nature is like that of the seasons of the year; of constant transformations. These transformation or changes are what give us our essence and strength, and allow us to move forward as the seasons do: after winter comes spring with its cherry blossoms to give way to the sweltering summer and then the colorful autumn, to return again to the serenity of winter.
Within us these transformations are to settle our dreams and give them roots and wings; individually and collectively. And when the winter or the instants of darkness arrive in our lives, learn from them, learn to live with them because they will strengthen us to resist the sultry days of summer or love its beauty. Without forgetting that all the things that surround us have the form and strength that we want to give them.
Metaphorically, each winter will be what we want to do with it. For me, it’s my favorite season, I love snow.
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Ilka Oliva Corado @ilkaolivacorado firstname.lastname@example.org