It’s only the 2nd of September, today, yet the sounds and scents of summer seem far. The weather has been helping to get into the mood, treating us with the beauty of violet skies filled with softly round clouds, heavy and luxurious like precious brocade. Gone is the deep monochrome of July and August’s sky, blue and silky, yes, but lacking depth, lacking mystery, lacking the charm.

Because, you see, if summer is quicksilver on feathers, the fall comes wrapped in velvet and covered in gold. If summer is a child’s carefree laughter, the fall is Callas’ pained prayer to the Lord in Tosca: there is beauty in both and some may prefer one to the other, but the depth, the emotional and aesthetic complexity of the latter are unreachable by the one dimensional nature of the former.