Dear Santa,     

When you’ll come down from the sky, with my drawings by thousands …

I started this letter like this, but as the recipient does not exist (I still do not recover) and the sender does not have thousands of drawings (this is only a matter of time), the letter took a clear risk to get lost in the world of Christmas (and of my cerebral utopia), so I concluded I had to accept, somehow, to put a point to this sentence.

And start a new line.

Just the time to do two things: draw the branches of an evergreen organic conifer (you will see that the spines will hold until at least New Year’s Eve) and shout very loud (it should not disturb the blog next door, I think he cannot hear me, cause he never complained): MERRY CHRISTMAS 🙂