"A simple wooden hut, under the snowy peaks
Its fireplace is its heart.
The fire is just finishing and a big heavy cloud of smoke fills the dark room.
You do not mind, you love the smell of pine.
Warm, wrapped up in sheep skin and his arms, you read the tattoo on his hand over and over again “Talisker”
His beard tickles you on your nude shoulder, while he leans over to pour you another cup of Lapsang Souchong
You can smell cloves from him, which gently mix in the air with pine smoke and burnt charcoal
You feel safe, you feel loved"