The calender says August, yet the weather acts like fall. A dark sky creates poetically dramatic patterns, while the light sneaks through the clouds. Heavy rain falls from the sky, lying like a carpet on grass and flowers. The wind shakes the trees, and I wonder, “Where did the summer go?”. It happens every year in Scandinavia, when you realize exactly how short summer is. The golden evening light, the oh-so clear air, the change of leaves colors, and I feel this very sincerity about life. Like the scenery touches the very deep of me. This is the most bittersweet time of every year: I love it more than anything else, yet winter will soon be here. The dark days are to come.

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