In Russia it snows a lot. Snow is pure, white, and beautiful. However, i dislike snow. The howling wind and flurries of snow bites my skin. Snow has no warmth. Snow brings back horrible memories of my lonely and cold childhood. I despise it. I want to be somewhere else. I want to be where a warm, bright yellow sun beams onto a field of sunflowers. I can almost feel the sunlight caressing my skin and a slight breeze brushing through my hair. I want to skip through the field of sunflowers with you. I want to hear your childish giggle. I want to see your crescent-shaped brown eyes and touch your flowing, silky brown hair. I desire warmth and lov