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When it snows in Amsterdam,

our familiar streets are made strange and new

and we bundle up to tackle the adventure.

The canals turn white,

and the houses huddle together for warmth.

Some people still ride bikes

and some walk.

After it snows, the city is quiet and white.

Things feel untouched.

At dusk the sun burns with no heat, and swans brave the harbor.

Inside I light candles, drink mulled wine, and stay wrapped in a quilt. Because it’s cold when it snows in Amsterdam, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.