Through the railings of the graveyard, hidden amongst the snow-clad branches of trees, a small token of life was found. A symbol, personal between those who hung it and the person being remembered.

Snow, Ice then Slush. Precarious is nature.

” Through the bedroom window – the tree, and street beyond.

” The hand hovers, gently, over the keyboard. Tentative. Slowly, the fingers push down, depressing the keys. Words Appear.

” ‘Rafa’, my (now-ex) Spanish housemate has decided to move back to Spain due to his new job (but most likely because his girlfriend is there)