I dream.
I dream of snowflakes twirling through the air around me in a beautiful flurry, as if they're dancing along with me.
I stand in a shimmering white dress that's like...
The snowflakes themselves made a dress for me.
As if I'm clad in a long, shimmering gown of sparkling snowflakes, skirt picking up and twirling in the air with every twist and sway of my complex dance.
My skin is so pale I could fade away into the snow and never be seen if I were to stand still.
I twirl.
I dance barefoot in the snow, spinning and spiraling, twisting in manners that might look random and simple at a glance but are actually...a complex, weaving work of art.
Cold caresses my skin like an embrace. It doesn't bite at me, but instead welcomes me like a lover, embracing me as if I were a part of it myself.
My laughter doesn't sound like me, and yet I know it is.
It's melodious, as if the music I'm dancing to is my own laughter.
