I always feel like a First Snow Day is for me so special, and I always wonder why do I feel so.

It’s like an end and a fresh beginning. Everything that was said, was said, and everything that was done, was done. Snow has sealed the past. Now, we start anew, as if we were back to humanity’s childhood, back to that half-million-years-ago prehistoric epoch when there were no machines and websites, but there still were magic poems and games and dances under the first snow.

“When the child was a child, it didn’t know that it was a child, everything was soulful, and all souls were one.”

By some strange intuition, today I’ve reread the words of this poem by Peter Handke from Wings of Desire, a film I always admired. I was astonished when I stumbled upon these words:

“When the child was a child…
it had, on every mountaintop,
the longing for a higher mountain yet,
and in every city,
the longing for an even greater city,
and that is still so,
It reached for cherries in topmost branches of trees
with an elation it still has today,
has a shyness in front of strangers,
and has that even now.
It awaited the first snow,
And waits that way even now.”

And waits that way even now.

Happy First Snow Day, dear friends.