He’s so painstakingly flashy, nauseatingly confident in his exclusivity. All of the ultimatums and sharp edges — try not to kill yourself trying to cross this obstacle course. You regard pretentious snobbery and the habit of dressing in black as forms of escapism and choose the straight path.

In everyday life, clearly divided into two, you both have too little simple humanity. In this territory, his idealism is permanent, and your quirkiness is interspersed with shadows on the walls. His face is reflected in the gloss of Forbes, his face is dotted in the reflection of dozens of camera eyes. In this territory, his idealism is permanent, and your resourcefulness is interspersed with shadows on the walls.

Self–made young geniuses generally do not meet the demands of everyday life and building a house of cards for a normal life is as simple as trying to assemble a puzzle where all the details are from different sets.

It feels like you have a cubic meter of air for two and someone will have to give the other an extra breath. It's as simple as warming someone else's fingers, frozen in the cold, with your breath. Like everyone else "can't do it without you" in a shrill whisper in the tarry darkness of a winter night.

You think that migratory birds living on two houses don't have a house at all.

The city, strict in its academicism, has taught you to love something that will never fully be yours. To love the creative means to put your selfishness, self—conceit, and ultimately yourself on the sacrificial altar. In a painful understanding, you could do without words.

"If I move to another country, will you come with me?" Pavel watches as the snow, like ashes, spirals around, settling on the ends of your eyelashes. And it's not at all that he is a man in whom light and ice are refracted in the gaze of attentive eyes, such as kai, who never got out of the ice kingdom, would envy.

You just like winter. You just like to think of yourself as his Gerda. You just like it, whatever it means.