The cold current in Siberia migrates slowly along the track of previous years, like a group of migratory birds full of desire to return. At this time, the first snow has not yet fallen to the north, and the atmosphere is desolate and cold. The thin frost in the morning, trying to clarify the direction of the cold, is densely covering the entire surface. The bare branches kept coughing in the cold air, as if they were suffering from tuberculosis. Several huge magpie nests were placed on the tall trees, which always reminded people of the rough black pottery of primitive people, and gave them a sigh of passage of time.
This is winter in my hometown.
Conception: