By Ikkz Ikbal

This year, the snow arrived late, later than we expected.

The wait felt longer than any winter before. But when the streets finally turned white, mountains lifted themselves across the horizon, as if making their presence known.

The wind moved through the valley, carrying memories that had been waiting for years.

This snow felt different. It was alive, full of meaning. It reminded me that some winters are about remembering ourselves, and moving through the world with wonder in every step and glance.

When it began, I stood at the window, a warm cup of tea pressed between my hands, and the memory appeared suddenly, as if it had been waiting behind the glass........

© Kashmir Observer