December is knocking at my door. Somehow I feel uneasy with time. It flies and it is impossible to stop. The dreams that haunted me in my childhood and teens are again wide awake. I keep a handful of dreams in the palm of my right hand. I have to mould and turn them into reality. As I grow older, the magic power fades away. I hold the gold dust tightly in the palm of my hand. I notice the leak, I notice the gold dust slowly and gently slip through my fingers and fly into nothingness.
It's now or never. Dear Lord, have merci on me. Let me survive. Let me hold all the dreams in my hand and make them come true. Let this Chrismast be my Christmast.