If every winter I composed a song, I would soon have four seasons worth of winter songs. I will wrap up those songs around me into a homely lyric-filled blanket that I can pull over my head. Supping up the notes like a big cup of tea. Slurping up the soupy mess of heartache. So I can let melancholy rain down on the cobblestones any day I wish it to feel like winter. - Eimear McNelis
