And so it is

Maybe it was the aroma of espresso filling the air. Or my purple room, seeming a shade darker, courtesy of six burnt light bulbs. Or maybe it was the depressing book I was reading. Or perhaps the first cool winds of the season, that brought that feeling all over again. The one that starts in the pit of my stomach, spreading over my body, paralyzing my limbs and sinking in my chest. That feeling that washes over me every winter, making me laugh and cry; making me exhilaratingly happy and painfully sad; opening the reservoir of memories I want to cherish and burn.

I am afraid of winter.

I am afraid of the long nights.

I am afraid of solitude.

"In the end, that was life: a few plates, a favorite comb, a pair of slippers, a child's string of beads."
Juhmpa Lahiri- Unaccustomed Earth