This winter has a lot of snow.
Every Sunday it snowed and everything turns out white.
I’m always white, but you can see under the sky.
I live here without a roof, though the wind bleed.
It’s my home given by the nature.
My ancestors live in the same way.
So I keep this style.
But I’m satisfied with it and feel free.
Ah, the black one came to me.
But I’m not surprised by it, because it is my friend in nature.
A real friend. A real being in the free life.