Under the Green Desk Lamp…

There are lights hanging in trees, and the gentle sound of bells is everywhere. The ground is caked in thick, crunching snow, and the cold in the air can freeze the flesh.

In each house and every bar, parties are going on—people celebrating festivals, religious happenings, and the changing of the calendar.

Folk bustle about utterly convinced of their own importance, shouldering through busy crowds and sighing at anyone who might slow their urgent progress.

At random intervals, groups stand in circles and sing songs about happy times, or squalling infants.

Gifts are given.

Such is the season.

-Brad OH Inc.