Dear Martha, it’s me Andrew, I’m sure you could already tell by my writing. I’ve walked for days in search for that something you promised I’d find only by wandering. For that I thank you. The air here is soothing to breathe, the snow soft and fluffy to the touch. Just the other day I came across a cabin set alight. The embers were the same colours of the setting sun behind the rolling hills. If only you were here with me Martha. You would’ve loved the smell of burning wood on a cold winter’s night.