It’s a difficult, gloomy time of year. In the UK, we’ve had gales and pouring rain for a fortnight. Most of the country’s under weather warnings as I write, and no doubt tomorrow’s TV news will bring the familiar shots of shivering folk being ferried from their submerged homes in rubber boats.
It is, in short, shit.
So my thoughts turn to sunnier days. In the dark dirge of winter, it’s hard to imagine summer was ever even possible, far less that it happened – and that you were there.
My Sicilian photos prove otherwise. It all seems dreamy and surreal now, but there WAS once sunshine and there WILL be again. I have to repeat this to myself several times a day.
I really, really shouldn’t have been born in a high latitude. It doesn’t suit me. I’m a creature of light and sunshine. The darkness fucks me up.