Soul of darkness java11/14/2022 ![]() ![]() ![]() The Baltic shores are bleak and desolate in winter. In stormy weather one heard not so much the roar of the surf as the crunching of ice and the rustling of settling snow. The snow, patted with rabbit tracks, extended to the very edge of the water but the sea itself was unfrozen. Fluttered by the wind, which penetrated through various chinks, the curtains gave me the feeling that they were being drawn by someone who was furtively watching my movements. To reach it I would walk down a little path past an empty cottage with curtained windows. And from the stately pines, too, snow was wafted down in fluffy strands by the wind and by the frisky little squirrels which, when it was very still, could be heard nibbling at the cones. ![]() I remember living one winter in a seaside cottage on the Baltic dunes. ![]()
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