Biscuits like houses in a sweet, sweet, sweet city, covered with snowy icing, set about silencing cares.
Biscuits like jingle bells on Santa Claus’s sleigh brightly herald the celebrations: gingerbread, gingerbread, ginger ginger bread.
Clouds of spun sugar furrow the skies of a fantastical world where the old year is quickly danced away and the new year is rung in, still dancing, to the beat of a frenzied swing.
What a marvel, the harmony of steps and movements between her and him on the dancefloor of the Savoy.
Gazing into each other’s eyes, they bear witness to an understanding that touches on telepathy and reveal their mutual passion for dancing as pure entertainment.
Joy flows from the faces of the dancers, as though they themselves were the first to be amazed by such incredible, acrobatic, perfect, synchronicity.
Bordering on Sweetness and Dream, our dissonant and noisy world looks even uglier, distant and clumsy, but here too, where realty reigns, you can make even a cold and hostile thing like winter become magical if you want.
Just for a moment try to stop blaming others for your troubles, have a change of pace and ... turn on the music that’s inside