It's September ...
Strange to be here already.
The passage of time is an inexorable river ...
With a one-way direction.
Maybe it seems to slow down ...
But its course is always constant.
Transitional September ...
Separate.
Two seasons ... two conditions.
The air still carries the flavor
Of the current season ...
Now running out of him.
The expected change,
It still seems far away ...
As if time wants to slow down ...
And don't let it slip away.
On the other hand,
Aspects already changed ...
They have preceded what is to come.
Perfumes changed ...
Old Habits returned.
Then...
There...
From one day to another,
The surprise.
Abrupt.
Sudden.
Autumn will make its entrance ...
Without ifs and buts.
And there are those who experience it almost with relief.
As if this prolong,
He had gone too far ...
And a breath of fresh air was needed.
Nostalgia to enjoy your own private ...
Your own serenity ...
Own home.
Staying there ...
Just for the sake of tranquility.
Embraced by a slight warmth ...
Or from the charm of a book ...
That does not let go.
Dormant instincts,
Of desire for worldly life ...
They leave space,
At these times, habits.
And they will continue ...
Beyond the winter.
There...
September is here ...
And with a breath it has already flown away.

(Enrico Cattozzo)

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