It’s cold again. The time when, finally, my crave ends. The time when my old hoodies, jeans and boots come out to live the loveliest time of the year with me. The time when I walk on the dried maple leaves to end my temptation of the sound they make.The time when I place my favorite coffee mug beside the books on the wooden study table near this rusty window. The time when the aroma of hot cocoa is in the air, making it more crisp. The time when I blow the dust off my typewriter to pour my heart out to it. But this time, it’s not only about some boots or mugs. This time it’s not about what I have. This time, it’s all about something that’s missing. This time, it’s all about something that perhaps I never had. Something that I see in everything. Might it be the dreams in the cold mid-nights or my reflection in the foggy mirror. Might it be my warm breaths or the beats of my icy cold heart. It’s all around me. This winter, it’s all about some thoughts. Thoughts, that are to me what ink is to writer and chords are to guitar, what breath is to dying and smoke is to cigar. This winter, it’s all about some heart aching memories. Memories, that are to me what white is to calm and pink is to bloom, what red is to passion and black is to gloom. This winter, I don’t crave for anything but that something. This winter, it’s not about me. It’s not about anything…but you.