

Love for the little things is when you notice how a ray of sunlight plays in the drops of morning coffee. When an old windowsill creaks with a special sound familiar from childhood. It's the smell of the pages of a new book and the crunch of fresh snow under your boots. Moments that money can't buy - the first ripe tomato from the dacha, a note from last summer accidentally found in your pocket, a warm bar of soap that smells like your grandmother's house. There is no pathos in them, but there is a cosy truth of life😇