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The days are shorter, the nights are longer and it's so cold that even the morbidly obese cover up. It's quiet and grey, most things are either sleeping or dead and sometimes it even snows three feet in a day. Spring and autumn are a bit dull, but winter is when we really separate the men from the boys. Drivers lose control on the glacial highways of that country, plowing their cars into rivers, trees and limping wildlife; workers can't get home because of a seven-truck pile-up; families of deer turn to ice sculptures overnight; houses flood and freeze over in hours, entombing their hapless occupants; giants descend from the mountains to raid rural farms and homesteads; hospitals fill to bursting point; blood banks run dry. Every winter feels like it could be your last. But sometimes you wake up to a sparkling white duvet of snow, undisturbed save for the dotted lines of robin tracks and the occasional bump of a buried hedgehog. Those are morning when the world feels the most still, the most serene. The air is crisp and clear, ripping through your lungs like cold powdered glass. Even now you can feel your ears losing their grip on the rest of your body. Nobody wants to go out and work or commit a hate crime; they're busy snoozing under a pile of warm covers. You almost have the whole world to yourself.
So, Escapists, why do you love winter?