Pixa
like a whisper from the sky at dawn, covering the earth with its melody, weaving a blanket that invites rebirth.
Each flake is a dream that settles, lightly, silently, without fear of falling, painting the landscape calm and pink, transforming the world, making it blossom.
The wind plays with its tender essence, dancing in the air without haste, without end, and in its stillness, there is the presence of a winter that embraces, sweet and subtle.
The snow keeps secrets of the wind, old stories of times of peace, and while it covers the entire firmament,
the soul, in its whiteness, finds solace.