“Writing Jobs” is the classic winter panorama of the city; everything in black and white; a colorless sky; sunlight is replaced by the permanent gray of the suspended giant curtain that sometimes looks white and sometimes like a gray net hanging there for months in a row. It is the ideal period to write, but when I can’t, I turn to archives for assistance. I detach phrases from my volume with stories entitled “Mr. Dosti” (2010), I snap photos of urban fragments from the streets of the surrounding neighborhood (they all look the same to me). It seems like I always walk down the same street. Only the phrases I enter as subtitles make me distinguish the images from each other. However, I do enjoy it all. It looks like I’m editing subtitles for a black and white movie. There’s never an excess of black and white during winter. I used to love wintertime for the fact that it ignores colors. But not anymore. Winter finally lost its meaning for my senses.