The first sentence is always what matters the most. But I don't have one for this one. I only have mixed feelings, scattered here and there, and I'm not even trying to pick them up. It's this month of the year, my favorite month of the year, where leaves start falling down, and nature starts undressing, with leftovers scattered everywhere just like myself, preparing to sleep. And on the other side of life, us, trying to put our clothes on and collect what's left of us after a long summer sun, and we try to start working again. Back to action after a long summer sun, after vacation for some, or after lazy season of work for others. And for the lucky ones, even if they don't know, it's just a matter of changing clothes, with no work worries, no studies, nothing but a different season of nonchalance.
This month of contradiction when nature falls down to pieces and humans seem to picking themselves up. This is my favorite month of the year. Everyday brings change, you see an entire transformation in front of you if you just take few minutes to pause and look around. Then September rain comes, bringing along the most wonderful smell there could be.
September in this country might come a bit late, and might never come, I guess I have to stay a while to see about it. But I just know that I miss it. Real life, real seasons, real colors, real flavors. It just feels that senses here are something you read about in books, and even though everywhere in the world it seems to be useful, in here it will never come in use. I used to pity those who do not know how to savor beauty, now I pity those who will never even come across it.
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