"Winter is like a page honed to crystalline transparency in the book of seasons. It does not lull the world to sleep, but forces it to still, so that every sound — the creak of snow, the crack of frost, the gust of icy wind — gains the weight of silence. In winter, even shadows grow softer, lying down as velvety blue stains upon the whiteness, and it seems the very earth breathes more slowly, more deeply, keeping beneath its snowy coverlet dreams of future grasses. The winter tale is a script frozen in time: for anything to begin, one must first let everything slow down and ring out in the ghostly quiet, which envelops all in a shroud of serene mystery and anticipation,” - Natalya Vanenkova, Ai-arts Teacher, English Teacher, Writer, Ai-artist