Description
It's like a conversation that begins with a request to “explain” but turns into a whirlwind of half-truths and fragments of memory. The phrases scratch like children's scribbles on a wall, funny and crude at the same time. The cold pours into your face, but there is a strange intimacy in this cold - when distance holds tighter than any embrace. Everything sounds like a dream on the verge of awakening: the roads are abandoned, the fields are covered with snow, the rain is slanting, but inside there is still a small hope that even the most twisted words can prevail.