Text and photo: Mats Kangur
Translation: Liis
Even though there is more than enough snow still, and thick ice on waters too, the springtime sun can’t be held back. It latches on to everything that doesn’t reflect back, and all that is dark. It warms the ravens having conversations in the tops of the tall spruces, and the feathers that they drop on the snow below. The black feather, fallen on the snow, gets so warm in the sun that it melts itself down through the snow.