On a dank winter evening, when pouring rain pours outside the window and lightning flashes, you really want to warm up and dream. Tea bags are brewed, your favorite chipped cup is hugged, you wrap yourself in a blanket and cover your eyes, almost purring like a cat. You inhale the aroma of tea, today with bergamot. And before my eyes there are mysterious images of the tea ceremony. Some kind of phantasmagoria, and yet, images emerge, blooming fields, bright sun and warmth. Sip after sip, the warmth spreads throughout the body. Warmth in the soul and bliss. I just want to return to childhood, when everything was still ahead, when I believed in a fairy tale, my dreams were cheerful, and my dreams were simple and understandable. Light drowsiness, a fleeting dream and a dozen years, flies off like a husk. Awakening and a slight misunderstanding of how much time has passed … And in the hands, all the same beloved, chipped cup with still warm tea.