4rt attempt

I've been woken up by the sunlight.

Outside, a beep blue sky. A new brilliant day has just started and, with it, my life.

Laid in bed and covered with the blue sheets, half of my brain is trying to organize the day, and the other half is recovering past pictures... I've given up the planning task; today won't be too different from yesterday and I feel like looking back.

And I see, a land dressed in white and I feel the forgotten cold. I remember the lonely and quiet afternoons after work; me, a book, a notebook and a cup of tea.

Those days when everything, even me, was iced.

Now, the spring has come back, the yellow flowers colour the green landscapes. And the sun warms everything up, even me. But my hands are still cold.

Like a subtle dance, I move forwards and backwards trying to understand what's really going on and which is my place if I really have one.

Previous attempts:

1st: handwritten and too intimistic, discarded.

2nd: senseless, discarded.

3rd: just didn't like it, discarded