Hi Bassim - this is a really evocative piece of writing, well done. I've underlined the parts you need to take another look at. One thing that makes your writing a little unclear in parts is where you are using pronouns and it isn't obvious who/what it refers to. In the sentence about 'instead of gazing yearingly at them (women) I'm not sure whether the men watch women to see where women put their shoes, or if the men are careful about where they put their own shoes, and whether the 'his' is correct (if it is the men being careful) or incorrect (if it is the women who should be careful). Again there is a bit of confusion caused initially by using 'it' for both winter and nature in the same sentence. You also have a few punctuation problems in your longer or more complex sentences.
...but I really liked this essay.
WINTER
Winter is here again. Like a powerful predator it has dug its claws
in nature and it will not let it loose until the end of March and the first sunny days. True,
it will give it a few days of brief respite when sun appears on a horizon for some minutes, but winter is merciless in this part of the world.
In the summer women walk in short skirts and tight dresses leaving men drooling over their bodies, but now they are wrapped up warmly in thick jackets and long shawls.
Instead of gazing yearningly at them, men usually watch over where they put their shoes and boots; nobody wants to slip over on the ice and break his leg.
When I was younger I could never have imagined that I would end up in Sweden one day and experience this coldness on my own skin. But now I am here and feel that I have arrived to a godforsaken place which does not belong to Europe. The longer I am here the more I feel I do not belong here. I came here as a refugee but now I am a prisoner unable to leave the "prison", although there are no walls around me which would prevent me
to escape.
When I feel bored or cannot read any more I leave my warm, cosy flat and take a stroll out in
nature. There is a little river not far away and a path which goes
all the way close to it which I have slowly paced all these years back and forth like a sentry on an everlasting duty. In the summer the riverbanks are overcrowded with young people: pupils, students, lovers and anglers but now the only living creatures who defy the winter is the flock of ducks which never leave their place even when the temperature drops below -10 degrees Celsius. They stand like statues, not giving a sign of life, one could believe they are frozen.
First when a person approaches them they wake up from their torpor and waddle to the ice-covered river.
It is a special feeling to walk in this coldness when everything is white and grey while dark branches of the
old and tall trees bending under the thick snow remind the stroller that in the spring the landscape will be more friendlier and beautiful. It is almost an absolute silence. The town is about 3.5 km away from here and the noise from the factories and streets cannot reach this place. The only sound
makes my boots trampling and crushing the frozen snow. At times a black crow flies over and shrieks ominously leaving me alone in the cold, dark desert.
To be continued...