Nothing burns like the cold. - George R.R. Martin.
This drawing was made on one cold December evening... When nothing warms you as much as sorrow memories of the warm summer days spent with the hope and butterflies in the stomach. And on a chill winter evening, you are left with the cold of the broken hope, which burns your heart worse than the fire could ever do.
Watercolor Nevskaya Palette on paper Hahnemühle, A4.