Summer doesn’t suit me well.
I’m like a fish out of water, in that my naturally melancholic personality is forced to face sunshine and retro sunglasses, instead of it’s liking of dark, cold evenings and warm fireplaces.
There is no hunt in the summer.
No hunt for hidden beauty, no discovery of secrets.
Or so I think.
I simply had to steer off the common path of daily life to notice,
and be open to it’s offering.
So, maybe summer doesn’t fit me well compared to others. Or maybe I’ve got something against the sun and it’s never-ending happiness provocation.
But no matter what I feel, each season, I’ve found, will find a perfect way to find me.