Nearly frozen water moves slower than summer water, viscous like icy cold schnapps in a glass. Yet it is warmer than the air: the rocks have white berets of ice on their heads. Even last year’s reed remains have puffy dresses of frozen seawater.

Winter is silent. Pensive. A little gloomy. And so am I, too, in January and February of most years.(Helsinki, Finland; January 2018)