ferdinand hodler, autumn evening 1892
this is the time of year when i begin to measure life in terms of the weather … the light … colour …
everything becomes that much more fragile, faded, tenuous.
life itself becomes something to be guarded, protected.
i scan the skies as i ride. hoping for some sort of intimation of what's next.
2 comments:
Lovely! Yes, It is that season. Can not see what is around the corner.
i figure snow. cold days, slushy days. deep snow days. days with next to no sunlight. days with blinding sunlight and star high skies . . .
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