One winter afternoon in 1986, five-year-old Jan set out with his snow sledge and a red bobble hat, ready for adventure. He spent the afternoon watching snowflakes melt on his gloves, savoring the cold bite of the air. Racing downhill, he imagined a crowd cheering him on, his heart leaping with each turn. The mix of snow, snot, and blood on his nose tasted sweet and wild-his last vivid memory before they found him unconscious beneath a tree, his small frame still and bruised. The years that followed were quiet and deep, as if he lay beneath a blanket of endless snow. In those silent nights, Jan took in the world around him-the scent of familiar rooms, the warmth of his grandmother's lap, her fingers threading gently through his hair as they watched TV static together. These moments became part of him, and he stored them away, like secrets kept safe in the snow. In 2005, the thaw came. Jan began to train his body, voice, and spirit, following a path to the stage he'd once glimpsed as a child. In his first performance, he watched the last snowflake melt on his hand, knowing he'd stepped beyond the boy he once was. Now, with an invisible sledge on his back, Jan lives in Vienna, certain that no mountain will ever be too steep.