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The mixing of the seasons

The cold invit­ing itself for the night, and no mat­ter how much autumn stuffs us with embalmed after­noons, the morn­ings become cool­er and cool­er. Now you have to cov­er your­self a lit­tle, lift the col­lar, fear that the cold will attack the bronchial tubes. It is the frag­ile pas­sage of the sea­son when every­thing goes wrong and recur­ring habits have to come out of their hibernation.

Always that beau­ti­ful light. Peo­ple are hap­py to repeat it to each oth­er, the days are beau­ti­ful, even relax­ing. Don­ald and Hilary are strug­gling, hur­ri­canes are dev­as­tat­ing the islands, but Que­bec is purring with col­ors. One would think that it is at peace, although it is an obvi­ous illusion.

The leaves, already on the ground, com­pete in agony. Pho­to­syn­the­sis now behind them, they die one after the oth­er, drunk with juices.

My eyes bare­ly observe them all, get tired of them and my feet tread them shame­less­ly. They are not all equal in the face of death, some trees are not as artis­tic as oth­ers, more skilled at undress­ing. We would real­ly like to die like that, a beau­ti­ful death, nev­er pre­ma­ture, always in the sea­son. And espe­cial­ly in the silence of the res­i­den­tial areas.

It is almost a lux­u­ry when you hear about the hor­rors being woven else­where on the plan­et. We almost want to apol­o­gize for declar­ing our­selves hap­py, at least to lie to our­selves about this sea­son­al hap­pi­ness, since the dra­mas are not so far from us either, prob­a­bly in these same hous­es bathed in such mild autumn. I know all too well that life is only an autum­nal mix­ture of life and deca­dence, a con­stant and nor­mal, slow, mix­ing of time. Dra­ma, dis­com­fort and also com­fort are every­where, in my soul, in our unspo­ken words, in our silence, in the mists that inhab­it the space between words and conversations.

It is often said, “if the walls could talk”. I would add : “If every­thing that was kept silent were to come out in the open, what kind of sea­son would we have?”

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