From the author: Cat Tales Purrs: Winter's TaleIs New Year coming? I don’t believe it at all, I don’t feel it, and I probably don’t even want it. So, my friends reminded me of him, I completely forgot about him, what’s the point? I look out the window, I want to see traces to the house... But there is no snow, and there are no traces, traces of my dreams, my joy and my grief, my patience and my indecision, my cheerfulness and my despair - my pain, melancholy, despondency, cold in the soul, heart, in all existence... Where are you, traces to my home, my orphanage?! Although I don’t know who came up with this name, because childhood is not felt here at all. And maybe it’s worth asking the question: where are the traces of dreams, but where are the traces of childhood? And the dream is childhood, real childhood. With its children's real house, children's real toys, children's-children's dreams, children's-children's bedtime stories... Stop! This is not my childhood, or maybe it’s mine, but if it wasn’t there, it’s not mine, or I’m not a child. But how can I be an adult if I was not a child, was not a child? Maybe I don't exist at all. I touch my head: hair, forehead, eyes, nose, mouth, everything is there, even ears. They're small, it's true, but there are just enough to hear exactly as much as the child needs. No I do not understand? If there is a head, torso, arms, legs, and small ears, then how can I not be a child? Maybe I just don’t exist? Maybe. Did I just invent myself, give all the body parts and call it all a child? No, children don't know how to do this. Only God knows how to invent a child, and he is far away, in Heaven, and I am here on earth. Maybe I still exist, even here on earth? Oh no, I’m probably... I’m an alien. True, I have never seen them, but someone once said that they exist. And what could it be similar?! Nothing, so-so, the alien turned out! Then everything can be explained. There is probably a breed of aliens that have no parents. They live on their own, in their adult orphanage, without any childishness or childhood in general. And maybe this is normal, and you shouldn’t worry too much about it? I still don’t understand! How then do alien children have other children, if all the children have long been adult children without any childishness. Probably, I’m just not an alien, or they’re not real children... I look out the window again, it’s been snowing for a long time, no traces are visible. This means there are no dreams, or maybe they were simply covered with snow and they still exist! And there is me, and there is childhood, and there are parents who can give it to me! And if not? No, snow, please go, so that I never know what is hidden under the layer of snow: empty asphalt or the footprints of a dream. I will wait, I will look out the window and wait. No, I will listen to the silence so as not to miss THEIR steps. So close and distant, quiet and noisy, fast and slow, light and heavy, dear, close, loved... So she remained sitting by the window, through her sleep she heard steps, the steps of a DREAM and smiled!..