I woke up in the middle of the night and stayed in bed with my eyes closed for a while, trying to get back to sleep. It was about five in the morning when I gave up and jumped out of bed.
The summer had been officially over for two weeks. I don’t particularly enjoy or even notice the transition between autumn and winter or spring and summer. But the onset of autumn and spring are delightful. The need to bring a long-sleeved T-shirt or a blanket out of the closet for the first time in months. Or the first breezy days of spring, with the sun shining and warming up the air after long months of cold weather and gray skies.
I was in that mood of changing seasons. Changing seasons always inspire little changes in my daily routine. They make me happy for a while, until I adapt and forget about them.
Everything was silent, a five-in-the-morning-kind-of silence and the lightning bolts gave way to the rain.
Whatever you have for breakfast tastes better in those days, but its flavour is as impossible to describe as umami.
The sound of the rain, no cars, no voices. The smell of coffee and toasts. Daydreams.
I felt a calm pleasure, I was alone with things that could only live in my head. My imagination painted them perfectly unable to breath anywhere else. They feel homesick if they leave to materialize, and want to come back and enjoy the onset of autumn, the warmth inside my head.
They think they want to be real, but what does a thought know about not being a thought?
by Noelle Giaco