whenever by some devious reason we may think that life has come to a point, it just moves on. There are people being born and people being reborn, both out of love or out of tragedy; there are loves that were forever and are no more and loves that never were and become eternal; moments become unmoveable objects and monoliths dissolve in the rain. SantaClaus again, Xmas time again, we'll soon be talking to the Easter Bunny again. Again.

can i say that i want it now? or should I get closer to the end first?

Where is the snow? What the hell have you done with the snow?