In an old book, in which the pages are all yellow, the words are all crisp yet distant, I created a snow bowl. Small, white snow flakes keep falling upon a bright little house. If you look closely, you can see a little girl peering out of the window, up at the sky. She wants to know where all the snow is coming from.
I then saw that it was getting too cold inside the world I made, so I put the book away. You see, it only exists when the book is open.
Was interesting to my eyes while it lasted.