There is something magical in the arrival of the autumn. Something magical that happens again, every year. Something that I’ll eagerly wait, as soon as I come back from vacations. Autumn bring its presents, to everyone willing to accept them. The colors are new and fresh, nature shows complex and articulate deeps, patterns that can talk to my heart more that in any other season.
I like this renovated sense of intimacy in being at home while outside is cold, the yellow warm lights of the house in contrast with the terse cold and misty blu that it diffuses everywhere.
All conjures to make possible this magic to appear, exactly when you don’t expect anything more…
Suddenly, Out Of The Blue
Some Kind Of Magic Pushes You Through
You Don’t Know When, How, Or Why
But Someday Gonna Take Off, Fly
Fly, Fly, Fly…
(Mike Oldfield, To Be Free)
For all of this, and for more, fall is a poetical season: the most poetical, in fact.