The city was shining. The light of the polar day played on the facades of the buildings, covering them with warm gold, as if the walls themselves were dancing in anticipation of the feast. The main square was crowded: the plumiies sang, laughed, shared fragrant pancakes with honey and poured fruit compote into shiny cups. Amidst all the merriment, a music bar stood at the edge of the square, blaring tunes that turned into loud, temperamental dances and then into gentle, almost intimate singin...
