When a woman sleeps alone in a bed for a long time, the bed becomes colder. Waiting for somebody to share the bed with her, the woman is stockstill. She calms down, directs herself inwards, diminishes, becomes shallow. As if her bed and all her world are slowly buried in snow.

It’s so good to sleep under the lumps of snow. It’s so warm and cozy there, only you wouldn’t want to go out.

But there is something, that can lay under the snow for the whole winter, sleep silently, and then upspring. These are walnuts. While the snow is sifting down on the solitary bed in the night forest, alive walnuts start to sprout out.