Winter came down to our home one night...
Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
The gentle thief of colours came silently at night.
With her cold white fingers
stole all warm hues and nuances
Which she hid in her secrets chests
Then left us in exchange
Her soft and shining light coat.
"There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky...."
Another gallery of autumn pictures…. I know, it’s nothing original, it’s like the first annual wave of flu epidemic,
like the usual task to take out winter clothes from wardrobe at the final end of warm days…
You see, all habits that mark our routine of life, nothing original, nothing, new, nothing exciting…
But we can see things from a different point of view and simply find, in the apparent monotonous repetition, something reassuring, sweet and comforting.
The return of certain little rituals, the smell of roast chestnuts in the streets,
the first morning fog…a kind of Proust’s madeleine, if we want to make a reference.
Then colours,ah... only autumn has such colours…So why not?
After all also sun rises every morning, all the same, but always different, as a brand new gift.
I love autumn!
I'm trying here to compose a visual patchwork of images
featuring details of every day life,
in that space of time included between early September last warm days
and November fog final triumph.
“There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky,
which through the summer is not heard or seen,
as if it could not be, as if it had not been!”
~Percy Bysshe Shelley~
Daily prescriptions to survive summer.
July 2010 - Nearly private journal by images
Someone said that deep summer is when laziness finds respectability, as for me the laziness in summer is mostly a means of survival, since staying in the shadows with a book and a cold drink, without exercising any physical activity, except breathing and turning a book page is the only sure way to arrive to September in good conditions of spirit.
Obviously I’m exaggerating, even though just a little...
I like repeating that in summer I go to hibernation and it means I tend to spend indoors most of the day, in a very individualistic way to avoid all what is “ too much” for me, too much heat, too much sun, too much noise, too much of people.
I’ll scribble something here, on this virtual note book, probably every day, like that without any reason, just to spend time, to think less about what disturbs me and to think more over about what maybe matters a little more.
From the bottom of my cosy and shaded troglodytic cave I’m ready to face another summer, always my own way, with ironical and slightly disdainful approach to all usual clichés of the season, which I happily tend to neglect.
My summer lethargy – or, if you prefer – summer hibernation (I like the oxymoron here) starts today - on the 21st of June - and it will last until the autumn equinox, when my mild and sweet September will start fading away.
I refuse categorically to go anywhere in summer, unless I’m obliged by very serious and irrevocable reasons, which luckily never happens.
The heat and the too bright light disturb me, crowded terraces make me feel claustrophobic even outdoor, flocks of vacationers perturb my environment and leisure entertainments, usually based on something noisy, don’t amuse me at all, but have an opposite effect.
I take all my own responsibilities for these grumpy statements, I’m a very little sociable troglodyte, I know.
Nevertheless I have decided also this year to offer an indirect tribute to the season I don’t like, dedicating to it this approximate visual diary.
It will be an attempt to look at my daily life with different eyes, as if I was an explorer of my own routine.
The essence of the travel after all is always a mental attitude.