" In the snow-blanketed alleyway, kids were playing with mitten-covered hands; a beautiful girl was perched on the hood of a parked car, flirting with a man whose tongue dangled out of his open mouth like a thirsty dog. A middle-aged neighbor was shoveling his driveway joyfully, bobbing his head and singing along with the upbeat music blasting from his radio. If I could pack my unhappiness into snowballs, I would throw them at these people. "

― Ava Homa , Daughters of Smoke and Fire