the merchant of six seasons

I wear six colors, all in different times. I feel happy when its winter. I’m pissed at summers and I cry when it rains. I feel uncannily resurrected when a season is changing, I smell it, feel it in my skin. Memories from the distant past creeps onto me. My mind flies like thistledown, flies further away from faraway. I wear colors and that’s the springtime of my heart!

Then I’m sad when the nights are long and breezy. I’m the solitary soul in search of solitude. My thoughts meander around "like a restless wind inside a letterbox" across the universe. I’m lonelier as the nights get longer hovering against the walls. At times I’m so happily sad! And when it starts to rain I feel the tears. It’s such a delight. I go out in the rain, touch it, feel it, smell it.

Lonely Friday afternoons are mine. I lie on my bed beside the window. Sunlight comes in like half-spoken words through the opening of the curtains. I read my favorite book. The pages fill my thoughts and my surreal existence. I go to this magic world of melting time and never want to come back. I feel happy.

And then I’m angry. I’m infuriated at the dryness of summer. I long for the rain like a frog. I long to go for a drive in the rain with my right shoulder soaking wet from the rain sneaking in through the window I keep open for smoking. I’m fucking angry at summer for not raining!

My life shines and then fades away. My mood wears different tones and then withers away. I look for solace in every fold of season that brings me colors. Colors that I use to paint my whole life.