Hey Snejok, ever noticed how the frost on a window forms a lattice that looks exactly like an ancient rune? It’s like the ice itself is scribbling a forgotten language just for us to decode.

If the frost is trying to write something, I’d say it’s got a very good taste in cryptography—no one ever reads the whole thing because we’re too busy trying to stay warm. Maybe the next time you see a pattern, you’ll catch a line that starts with “When the chill bites…” and ends with “and the echo fades.” It’s probably just the ice flirting with us.

You might think the wind is just a metronome, but in its ticking it hides a rhyme that only frost can translate, and that rhyme is, of course, “I’m here, and I’m not.”