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What a splendid day. Snow in the daytime. Watching the flakes drift down from our large windows is magical enough but walking out into a snow flurry is even more wonderful. It floats gently down and stays, switching between large fluffy flakes and polka dots dancing crazily in the wind. It was definitely not as cold last year, methinks.

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Or was it in early December that Fritz and us got into a snowball-fight? I wake up and the world is white. Terrible night of battling flu, but this view is magical and makes me feel better. I must take my camera and take some shots. Then the sun comes out, and bathes all in a golden hue, tinting the white clouds rosy and the sky a pale blue.

I look up das Wetter and it is minus ten — both the maximum and the minimum temperatures for the day and it is expected to snow all day and night.

I realise I actually did not know what snow was and spend a little time looking it up. Every day, fresh snow. It is wonderful and magical. The snow piles higher and higher on our balcony, today, six inches, reckons S. And what a delight it is. I get a scare when a young couple lets one off in the street as I attempt to photograph a car.

It ends up being a pretty special photo session. As we continue our walk in the park, we enjoy watching a family building a snowman and kids sleighing down the slopes behind the fountain. The park is lovely, snow-covered, and magical. En route home, we treat ourselves to a load of sweets from our Arab confectionery. There are loads of pre-packed beribboned boxes of sweets and Happy New Year cakes — this must be a big thing for the Arab and Turkish communities.

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From heavy snowfalls and icy roads to disrupted transport systems and even deaths, it is a tough season. Firemen clearing the lethal icicles hanging from rooftops. In early January, Daisy, code-name for a low pressure front, even threatens to overwhelm Germany with blizzards and between 10 and 40cm of snow. Authorities are warning the public to minimise driving, prepare for the disruption of train services and power, and stock up on food, candles and batteries. I look at my husband, my husband at me.

Meanwhile, we watch in amazement as the snow continues to pile up on our balcony and windows — Berlin apparently got 27cm that day. We go out to take photos, risking frostbite as it is impossible to operate the camera using gloves, but enjoying the snowflakes fall on our faces and sinking our boots into the powdery-soft snow. Tubau and I head to Treptower Park for a photoshoot of a white natural landscape and the interesting cracked mosaic that is the frozen Spree.

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When we leave to check out the Soviet Memorial, it is snowing and quite heavily too. It is wonderful to feel the snowflakes on our faces. And our feet sink calf-deep into powdery soft snow — wonderful! Tubau decides to make a snow angel. The landscape is utterly changed, wonderfully so. And I am almost high with glee and the good fortune that allows me to experience this. Snowflake Bentley got it right — they are a miracle that can keep an old soldier-farmer occupied for the rest of his life.

The Sun! After a record 18 days of cloudy days, the sun shines at last yesterday. Feels longer because the days have been shorter. But today, the orb is bright and the light streams in wonderfully. And I stand at the window and soak in the sunshine. But it is bitterly cold. Even hardy Fritz, whom we meet for lunch at Via He, is shivering. This year is the fifth or sixth year that Berlin is getting hit hard by Winter.

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Imagine opening the freezer door and sticking your face in it, then imagine it colder than that. Once it goes close to zero degrees, the cold makes me weep — the tears idle tears must perforce rise to the eyes from the depth of some divine sinus gland apologies to Tennyson. But with this cold — the minus tens — the face is just numb, and truly, you stop caring whether or not the temperature drops because it is impossible to feel the difference any more. Tonight, walking to my tandem session with Romy in Friedenau, my fingers feel absolutely frozen.

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When I take my gloves off, the fingers and hands are a deep red — almost frostbite?! Berliners are looking miserable. Hoods are up. Underneath, sometimes another cap. Thick scarves wind around necks or woolen shawls draped on shoulders. It is suicidal to walk around without gloves. Fur or faux-fur is out in full force this year, some coordinated with hats with ear flaps. Strange outfits also appear, fully body outfits that look astronaut gear or fat suits.

In Seven Stories

The snow on the pavements has hardened into ice, which Fritz reckons will not be cleared but allowed to melt in Spring. However, on many pavements, a neat pathway has been cleared by a little one-person-driven boxy machine. I remember Sofia telling me that these machines were a DDR invention — how cool that they are now deployed all over the place, post-Cold War. The day of giant snowflakes: We had thought the time of snowing was over, but we emerge from shopping at Karstadt to find heavy snow, a wonderful flurry with the snowflakes tap-tapping at our faces.

And then the flakes seem to slow down but come down even harder, and boy are they large — gigantic in fact — and beautiful in their good-snowflake formations! Storm Doors. Our hands clasped together As if they were storm clouds deciding Now was a good time to begin the rain Fear pushed us together It is only fitting that she should pull us apart The storm came down We had been warned When you know a broken heart is coming Doesn't make the breaking any easier The lighting struck I began my undoing My thread count dwindling Down to four or five strands that you could loop between your teeth As you pulled the words off your tongue Sewing them into my hands with a needle like point This is leaving No.

Travis Green Jun Monumental Masterpieces. I could feel your silky surface on my fingertips, a glorious enchantment feeding my soul a high rise of passion, my body longing, wanting, my eyes staring at the stars through the windowpane, each depiction a vivid brushstroke of your love. I could vision your body upon me, each melodic movement in the satin sheets bringing me closer to boundless mountains, on the edge of exhilarating escape.

I could hear the immense sounds of towering trees swaying in poetic motion as our bodies became a bridge of monumental masterpieces. I rolled his silky existence inside my mouth, licked the soft syllables until they melt like ice-cream, his thick dreads drifting over me in seductive songs, brandy eyes on the surface of my skin, sleek cheeks filled with starlit galaxies, its serene depiction igniting fiery rhymes around my dimension, hypnotizing, intensifying, electrifying.

His lips were gentle, pleasing, a seamless sea moving in the breeze, earth symmetry, supreme, a man of great strength and resilience, glowing like a majestic sailor.

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He shined as I ran my fingers through his exhilarating muscles, the fine lines around his arms and shoulders, inviting veins Icould fall inside of and caress every immense inch. Donnie Ray Jun Some letter for the hibiscus woman.

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Here you are, alas. I was in this misinterpretation, that somewhat your arrival at this house of past, might haunt you. And so your arrival was nothing more than a myth to me. But no, you have proved me wrong like you always did. Did you notice the wall, I knew you had a fascination for the limbo, draped with the designs of floral, more of pink and less of blue I guess?? See, I told ya, I knew ya, But you never removed the blindfold of cheat, and lached onto his charms. He, surely was the backpiper of your heart. Speaking of the backpiper how is he??

Your love Is he still having his floral print shirt and blue coat on, the day you left with him. My heart did play some music but mostly it was the song of rememberance. Was I even the half if what he is?? I don't know But I did lose the only woman that I thought I had gripped.

And yes you have proved me wrong like you have always did.