Seasons of the soul


I love autumn. It’s a season of mourning and celebration. The trees shed tears of leaves over the painful ending of summer, the rain washes away the traces of sunrays on the ground, and the cold wind clears the playground off children and their supervising parents.

It’s a season of solitude and reflection. One that teaches you how to let go, but also look to what passed with gratitude, and look to what’s coming with hope.

I don’t like summer days because there’s too much going on for me to be able to take it all in. But once night time falls, I love to put on a pair of sandals and throw on a cardigan and go out. My favourite spot is a playground near the forest that isn’t lit at night. I sit in the dark, gazing up at the star studded sky and the moon. I fill my lungs with the pristine air, and at once I’m recalibrated.Whenever I hear something or see someone walk past, the idea that I could be attacked or killed crosses my mind for a brief moment but the awe and the tranquility nature gives me trumps any fear. Such ethereal beauty is worth risking madmen lurking in the dark. Though I reason that should they see me, a young woman, sitting alone in the dark they’d hastily move on, assuming I’m dangerous or insane for having the guts to do that.


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