This is the chronicle of my own private revolution—a silent coup d’état against a tyrant who occupied the throne of my life for six agonizing years.
In the jagged landscape of Montana, the winter doesn’t merely lower the temperature; it acts as a predatory force. It’s an invisible beast that sinks its sub-zero fangs through layers of wool and denim, gnawing at your marrow until the very concept of warmth becomes a half-forgotten myth.I was beginning to forget.

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