A boat among the snowy seas

Snow-white blankets gently covered the ground, like a curtain separating me from the rest of the world. I lay alone in the snow, in a near-death doze, feeling my every breath melt into the cold air. The narcotic coolness enveloped my body like the icy fingers of death, but at the same time it awakened memories that had long warmed my heart. Summer, my beloved summer, seemed incredibly far from the snowy abode, but it got to me as clearly as flashes of Munk's paint on my memories. I was an elderly soldier, plowing the fields, challenging the enemy and life, but summer has always been my source of inspiration and salvation of my soul from the shackles of endless war. I remember those days, beautiful and carefree, like a light breeze sliding across the grass. We, young and reckless, enjoyed the hot sun, which seemed endless. Merry dancing on the beach, like rushing rivers, blurred the boundary between friends and strangers, because in this serenity everyone was connected by one sense of freedom and carelessness. Every summer was a new course of my life, a new challenge that I accepted with joy. We scoured the boat as if through the waves of life, bathing our bodies in the gentle waves of the ocean. Rounding the boats at the yacht club like jumping lion fish, we laughed, had fun and enjoyed the beauty of this world. One day, the sun was hiding behind the horizon, we were sunbathing with the flames of a campfire under the starry sky. This was our territory in this world, where all past and future battles were not fought in the name of war, but only in the name of positivity and adventure. We talked like the glitter of pearls about the flight of airplanes, about unexplored countries and that we would fly to Mars someday. And now the memories have scattered like hundreds of snowflakes in the wind. Perhaps this war has always been inside of us, regardless of the time of year, and we just found a way to get away from it for a while by traveling around the world of our dreams. Now, ahead, I see a faint light, a faint call from another world, its time has come. Now I would like a piece of homemade holiday cake that was served at our fair...