The days are getting longer. There is no light, though. The greyness just lasts for longer, and the black hours are fewer.
How to survive autumn, how to cope with winter, how to live through the dark time, how to get by all the moody, gloomy and desperate hours until spring comes? These were the ultimate questions for me in September, in October, in November, in December, in January. Now it’s February, and I have my answer: I have survived, once again, but in honest: year after year those long months grow heavier, and already, although I’m heading towards light, sun and warmth, I’m horrified of the thought of the coming of a new fall and winter.
Pessimism? Maybe, but also a realistic. I know what’s waiting for us, for me. That won’t come as a surprise. The warmth of the summer, the night filled with whiteness won’t lure me. The glory of the long, hot summer is just a prologue to an endless time of the darkness.
Oh, I suck.