Days die and are reborn every season. Summer has packed a light luggage, the bare necessities, and has probably settled on a tropical beach, joining her sisters. She sat on a hot comfortable sun chair and about the time the waiter had brought her a cold Piña Colada, she already forgot about this corner of the world.
The seasons change just as we change our habits, search for coffee shops, forget about the sunny terraces, remember the old taste of a steamy cup of indoor conversation and temporarily forget about the uninhibited cool of the ice coffee. We don’t mind the fall being our new background and can’t wait changing wardrobes and habits out of the worm clothes closet.