he closer New Year, the stronger nostalgia on crunchy snow. Even at the most inveterate skeptics and cynics this night hearts fight a little faster. Because New Year, whatever one may do and pretend to be that you in what magic don`t trust, is all the same miracle expectation. It is enough to remember and feel at least taste of tangerines, a smell of woolen mittens to which have stuck snow, grandmother`s fritters with honey... This night, fireworks everywhere blow up, and the sky lights up with a round dance of the color sparks similar to fantastic fairies from any forgotten children`s cartoon film, and habitual and simultaneously strange silhouettes of fur-trees through glasses look brilliant multi-colored eyes of spheres. It almost as is fantastic, as Santa Claus who has climbed through a window leaf. In the world smells like a holiday…