Mr Carnaval

Mr Carnaval was burnt today, along with the winter that never was.
Last year, with the snow binding us in our villages, the roads at best treacherous and at worst impassable, the hill sides transformed into toboggan slopes, his death was postponed.
When he did finally go to the pyre, the snow still lay in tenacious mounds, and his burning body, stuffed with the small folded pieces of paper on which each child had written his 'soucis', was loaded with symbolic significance.