Lovely Morning Chat of Spring

The coming of no extra clothing days received a more than comforting welcome in the city. Bright colors and lighter fabrics find their way out of the oblivious drawer. Sunbaths, Sunglasses tan the skin and help the wearer see through the lens of unreal colour, and the spring-shaped, brisk feet of the lovely ladies lighten up the already light streets (the later due to the miraculous effect of the wonderstockings). For a week we have  been enjoing sun but just as in Breakfast at Tiffany’s the shower  unavoidably comes and cools the spring-effect.

A Day’s Description (a lame imitation of the Artist)

The Young J. Joyce

Beginning: hot hot big white coffee still red from the touch of the morning fire (artificial fire). Wondering around smiley and sulky papers (of all tastes) as  a mere administrator with the most objective attitude possible. What else, but follow the line of utter correctness.

A wintry ride back which bestows on you a most gloomy continence.

End: restful scent of the bed, plus smell of the unwashed 2 inches of  skin and itchy undergarments, which cannot be taken off on account of the general expectations which require a chic outfits even while entering the realm of sleep.

New Year’s Intro, with a Weather Forecast

Winter Landscape with Bird Trap, 1565 by Pieter Bruegel The Elder

The boney frost of the fresh year turns into a treacherous early spring sunshine with strokes of sawdust in the wind. Sawdust, an unusual presence in the midday of the big city. These images rather fit a rustling flowerbeded April day with stubborn winds than this January. It is true, it proved better than a confusing fog or a blasting young blizzard but weather nowadays has got human qualities, unpredictably warm while one shall expect cold (or, to some people’s great merriment, vice versa). 

Nativity Play

(Dedicated to Roth-Vizi Réka)

The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan Van Eyck in 1434

A child ruthlessly changes the course of a mother’s life. It is a biological process through which they both undergo and never look back, there is no past, just future. A few thousand years ago a woman had underwent such a process, however the lives changed by this particular process were far more numerous than expected. Funny how an umbilical cord-based relationship can change the whole course of History. 

Yet, we celebrate this very umbilical cord at the end of the current month, respectively year. 

Pigeon of Fog

Rain in November used to be cold, foreshadowing the next month of frost and savage winter. Yet, this November with its still dry grounds and soft airy nights under the oak tree brings us the surprise of not seeing your breath materializing in the atmosphere of the night. Even more so in the morning the fresh row fog lightly caresses your ear and forehead, as a voice of someone missing.

With this rather prosaic description I think of November as a missionary, or an agent of the missing.

Dedicated to Flora

There are things that live, or do not live it depends on what we want to believe about these things above mentioned. It is even more interesting when you yourself have the utmost power  of decision about there mere existence. Whichever you decide no comfort of the right decision will enlighten your days, because there is no such thing.

Lovely as it is the autumn morning with its misty fogs and fox-like tree leaves its coldness numbs our feet.    

September

For every person there is a time of the year, when he or she revises the last year’s events and compares it to the former one. Schoolgirl running past the lane dressed in bluish uniforms, her feet playing with the falling leaves, is a more than idyllic image of autumn. One “must have” of the autumn imagery are chestnuts. Those little jewels of the autumn damsel are inevitable. But what might be the sign colour of this autumnal trend. Surely there is a large range of possible choices. However, the most subjective voice of this paragraph is in favor of brown, rotten brown, rotten to the core of the branches.