But faster too, more hurried, each holiday tumbling over the other in a blur of lights and symbols. Back in the land of endless showers, where a million expatriates return once a year, things seem simpler. Sure, it's cold and it's damp and there aren't as many lights. And the rain seems to pour all day. But, shivering on the pier, bundled up against the spray, there's never any doubt.
Winter is the warmest of seasons.
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