When I make Christmas cards I become a child again.
I see how is snowing at night from my childhood and can hear the creak of wooden floor from the living room. Christmas tree is situated on a sideboard, which my grandfather found after the second war on the Warsaw’s street.
Moment shines, the street is white at night and I am waiting with the nose stuck to the window.
I cut images from the paper, the same, which I have in my memory. Then attach ribbons, buttons, and I wear elks in a crochet scarfs.
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