Sunday, September 28, 2008

Something about fall here reminds me of spring back home. The same fresh/crisp edge to the air; the way afternoon light slants through windows; the ground dampened by rain that could easily pass for new-melted snow. As glorious as the ultimate mildness of this city is, I miss the optimistic, happy feeling of seeing life begin, like new blades of grass or crocuses emerging.

Here, there is no such thing as the awakening of life. There's a perpetual green instead of greening. The closest thing is when the trees bud out, but springtime here doesn't feel like springtime as I've come to know it. The air, the light, the ground; this place has just got its seasons mixed up, I guess.

Down the street is a derelict cafe with its curtains closed, but you can still see through in the evening to the disaster within. It's clearly been abandoned for years, but for some reason the lights are always on inside. The neon sign above the door turned on every night, too, until quite recently. A sign in the door says that the cafe has been in the same location since some year in the 1930s. It's always been autumn on the side-street by that cafe, since I've lived here. The leaves were fallen and crisp in early summer, and something about the sidewalk is just... autumnal. I've ranted before about pavement/sidewalks, though, so I'll leave it at that.

Been thinking about getting back into singing, soon. It's not a long walk to an ARCT.

1 comment:

Blake said...

The leaves have changed here and almost fallen. It really is very beautiful right now.