This will undoubtedly be a summer that I will always remember, because for the first time in 31 years I really suffered it.
I, who normally paw for its arrival, who adore it, venerate it and invoke it. Which I I make my Goddess, my inner peace and my refuge.
This year I have suffered every day, every minute, from this infernal and exaggerated heat, which took away my breath and strength. From which not even the sea gave refreshment …
Despite everything it was a beautiful summer, full of positive experiences, like the day I spent with one of my little cousins in a water playground, which made me go back to being a child for a while and gave me a serenity that I didn’t feel. from time immemorial. Like when my friend came from the North and we went to the Escape Room, and in those days my friend’s life suddenly changed, upsetting all her plans. Or like the evenings on the beach sipping mojitos and believing that nothing bad happens when you hear the breath of the sea. I will carry in my heart the day at the biopark with my brother, having seen a real dragon and a real wolf, even if this was a bit subdued.
I spent my birthday with the people I really wanted.
I will bring with methe evening of the tour among the clubs on the Lungotevere to feel a little adolescent, still a little carefree. A little bit…
Then everything changed.
And I’m not just talking about the heat that has finally given way to warm.
Summer ended when the wind changed.
Maybe you haven’t felt it yet, but I do. It happened when September came, as always. I ‘ve never liked September, even before we had a bad fight.
The wind has changed, it has certainly carried coolness, but also melancholy. Which is neither sadness nor nostalgia. It’s that totally irrational feeling of missing what you’ve never had, never been, didn’t know you wanted to be.
They should move New Year to August 31, because it’s not January that takes away dreams and hopes, it’s not January that takes away the long days and holidays.
It’s September, with its school, work and university calendars. With its wind that deceives because it seems to bring new beginnings and instead it is always the same old story.
With its stupid wind that shakes you inside and brings pain back to the surface. That drags the leaves and the illusions, the projects … “this year I’ll do better, I’ll be better, it’ll get better”, only to find yourself shouting against January and the ten purposes…
but what is wrong with January ? Isn’t it September that forces us to lock ourselves back into routine?
Still, I always wait for that wind, like a fanatic masochist, I wait for it to shake my soul and give me back what it took from me.
And instead September continues to take dreams and people.
It upsets my soul, puts it in an uproar, makes the leaves of desire twirl, then like a hurricane it takes them away mercilessly.
Every September I change my hair color, as if this could hide me from the wind.
But it finds me.
It always finds me.