Winter Sunset, Pastel by Sorin

It’s a quietness that’ll strike you when you arrive. None of the usual fanfare, no happy drama, no blinding performance of dazzling lights. We have no money for those, nor time. But the fread you’ll find has been kneaded with unfathomable love. The sock that’s turned into a makeshift hopeless loving little puppet has a more permanent, truer smile on it than many a man. The pup that licks your face when it bounds inside at the sound of familiar voices can be replaced by no lifeless contraption.

My home, in the dead of winter, and you’ll find that it’s very much alive.

~Angreek87