Nature: "This is the only kind of spring you're getting, lady!" 😜☔️
Living in the north, I get quite affected by the lack of sunlight in autumn and winter, as my face is just bound to hit the keyboard from the seemingly sudden onset of fatigue. But today, especially, for some reason—four (five?) coffees and two teas later—I've realized that rainy summer days have the same effect. Come back, sun, I won't complain about the heat again! 🌞
If this month were to be described musically, it would be a mashup between Guns'n'Roses and X-Japan: Endless November Rain.
It is about relearning, once again, to discern the subtleties of the grayscale, where most of the time the world around fluctuates between 40% and 60% black.
It is also about appreciating the remaining—and rapidly vanishing—bits and pieces of color that won't reappear until Nature wakes up again in the spring.
It is the time when reflections are everywhere.
In the puddles, extending the world into a hall of mirrors.
And in your mind, grasping the meaning of the year gone by.
By now, some of that year is a fleeting memory, like those drying puddles beneath your feet covered with shed leaves.