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So you’re not cut out for winter. You’re a victim of geography, caught in a stream of life’s currents that has lodged you in between the rocks of an icy, unpredictable place that requires boots and shoveling. This season isn’t your thing, and you’d live without it if all else within your heart wasn’t stuck in this frosty town. But it would be easier—easier than moving, anyway—to sit this one out, wouldn’t it? Just skip winter altogether? To return rejuvenated


This story is from Kinfolk Issue Fourteen

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