When it's dusk at three and the 100-year-old windows weep. And there's snow, crisp and feathery and as fleeting as a native Berliner's smile. Which only comes out when there's snow.
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"...he dwelt as it were, in a tent in this world, and was either threading the valleys or crossing the plains or climbing the mountain tops..."
peasant glasses. no stems. solid sides and a tough bottom. drink up.