And we have snow. It's not much, but the air smells of cold. You can feel the Christmas spirit. I can't wait to bake gingerbread cookies and decorate our tiny Xmas tree.
I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me.
Fiction doesn’t present the unreal; it presents the possibly real, something balancing precariously between the real and the non. … We empathize with fictional beings not despite their unreality, but because of their possible reality.