every holiday is the same for me, an 11 hour car journey to the middle of France, where i visit my family. in the summer, the weather is too hot, so i spend my days by the lake but in the winter, everything is perfectly white, covering any holes in the ground. my house is a mill, surrounded by hundreds of acres , in the summer they are occupied by cows and horses but in winter everything is so peaceful. waking up and walking to my grandma's, making cakes and waffles, looking after my rabbit, then starting a fire when the heating doesn't work in the evening. i change, everything changes. i am definitely not the same person over there, i'm calmer, calories have no meaning, loneliness has no existence. on the other hand, everyone knows everything about you and your family, the closest clothes shop is about half an hour away, internet is unheard of and a meal shorter then 2 hours is rare.
my little house under the snow.
casual outside shower.
my two small homes, filled with so much laughter.
me walking on my frozen swimming pool (not your traditional kind).
me looking like a chipmunk, ready to ski.
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