Winter in Finland is ...

At this point, I swear the rain’s developed a personality. It hits the window every morning as if it owns it, as if I asked for a six-month subscription to Rain Unlimited. The Sun shows up for five minutes to remind me it exists. Quickly it disappears like it has better places to go, which, frankly, it does.

I survive through the day like a depressed mushroom. I dream of Greek islands where winter means light, olives, colours. I imagine myself there, tea on a terrace, watching the sea. Meanwhile, the rain here just knocks and says, “see you tomorrow.”