Autumn is a transient season, bridging the brutal glare of the summer sun with the muted, spindly landscape of a city during a snow storm. Following the warm months of August and September, we begin to feel the undertones of winter creep in the crisp air, in the leaves which begin to crunch underfoot, and in the days which feel shorter than before. I particularly love this season since I associate it with reflection and thought. I feel liberated by the cool air and gaze at the golden sun, gathering as much of this beautiful light as I can before winter’s monotony smears these sharp colors and hues into an indistinguishable haze.
Autumn is also a season of senses. The colors stand out more in autumn than during the summer. I suppose it has to do with the position of the sun in the sky, which moves closer and closer to the horizon, casting shadows and creating dramatic contrasts of light and darkness. As I walk home from the train station each day, I look at the trees bathed in this ethereal, golden light, hanging on to every last leaf. I long for the coolness to rush in, but I hang on to every glimmer of light, especially between 4:00 and 7:00 pm.
The passing of time has never been more tangible…
