11/22/2018

Kylesa
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Kylesa
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The good room
Christmas was always celebrated with grandma and grandpa.
They had a good parlour with a noble couch set from the 50s with soft sand-coloured velvet.
At the side stood a finely curved Recamiere made of fine dark leather. And behind it hung a huge painting with an angel gently kissing a woman in the clouds.
There was also a stone fireplace in the good parlour. Every year he conjured up a cosy warmth and comfort.
The good room was framed by three huge windows.
So I always had a look into the garden, looking for the bearded man in the red robe. But I could never see him before.
In the afternoon my grandpa brought in the fir tree and placed it centrally in the room.
My grandmother dragged the Christmas tree decorations out of the cellar, into countless ancient boxes.
We always decorated it together, with real candles and tinsel, small colourful birds and glittering balls.
It was always later and my excitement and joy rose.
Grandpa brought in the firewood and loaded it.
Now it was almost time.
In the fireplace the wood crackled quietly and the first load of smoke ... was in the air.
From the kitchen came soft warm smells, the ready-baked vanilla croissant.
They mixed with the smoke and the charred wood.
Warm smoky resinous sweet now lay in the air.
My eyes kept going out, into the garden.
Waiting, with great joy.
The snow lay there glittering like a protective blanket and the cold cracked.
My grandpa smiled at me and stroked my face. His hands smelled of fire, resin and smoke.
And then...
yes then suddenly there was a loud knock at the door.
Hyde.
They had a good parlour with a noble couch set from the 50s with soft sand-coloured velvet.
At the side stood a finely curved Recamiere made of fine dark leather. And behind it hung a huge painting with an angel gently kissing a woman in the clouds.
There was also a stone fireplace in the good parlour. Every year he conjured up a cosy warmth and comfort.
The good room was framed by three huge windows.
So I always had a look into the garden, looking for the bearded man in the red robe. But I could never see him before.
In the afternoon my grandpa brought in the fir tree and placed it centrally in the room.
My grandmother dragged the Christmas tree decorations out of the cellar, into countless ancient boxes.
We always decorated it together, with real candles and tinsel, small colourful birds and glittering balls.
It was always later and my excitement and joy rose.
Grandpa brought in the firewood and loaded it.
Now it was almost time.
In the fireplace the wood crackled quietly and the first load of smoke ... was in the air.
From the kitchen came soft warm smells, the ready-baked vanilla croissant.
They mixed with the smoke and the charred wood.
Warm smoky resinous sweet now lay in the air.
My eyes kept going out, into the garden.
Waiting, with great joy.
The snow lay there glittering like a protective blanket and the cold cracked.
My grandpa smiled at me and stroked my face. His hands smelled of fire, resin and smoke.
And then...
yes then suddenly there was a loud knock at the door.
Hyde.
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