I was born in Brazil.
With the exception of one year in my teens, which was spent in Texas as an exchange student, I only managed to move to America after my 21st birthday. Since then, I have spent most of my time in Southern California, an arid and dumb place. Moving to Indiana in early 2020 was a blessing — for more reasons than simply escaping the lockdown pandemic.
I love the cold.
Ice or snow, it doesn’t matter. Trees frozen in time. Smoke coming out of chimneys. Frost bites, dangerous roads… It doesn’t matter. Layering up just to go outside for five minutes. Don’t care. I love it.
It is as if we were told to wait and take it all in. Stop. The weather isn’t for fun, it is context. It makes certain truths visible, but only if you are willing to see them. Because I like to feel new, I like the cold. I like learning that I know nothing. It’s like being a child again and watching snowflakes waltz down and land on the trees. The snow makes it all strikingly visible — until it buries it all.
I like the cold because it teaches me things I never knew and there is no way to talk back to it. There’s only one way through it: take it all in.
I like that.