I'm up North, where the birds hide in barns in which the farmers store hay for the cattle that are born and raised on their farms and daylight on occasion sheds some little light, but it still feels like midnight at noon.
Cheeks are pinched red by the harsh winds that blow and the shoulders of people I know are all hunched It's like the Quasimodo show.
But I love it, the sights and the sound it feels like popcorn and lemonade spinning and sloshing around in my mind.