I asked you: what is 'snow'?
Between your gaze and mine the air ached.
You said: it is the white melancholy of the rain.
It's more solid, more silent, more alone.
Background: my mother memories about the snow: in the camps, in the death-march.
I asked you: what is 'snow'?
Between your gaze and mine the air ached.
You said: it is the white melancholy of the rain.
It's more solid, more silent, more alone.
Background: my mother memories about the snow: in the camps, in the death-march.