Summer bubbles take me back to a time when I was sitting on some stairs, under a birch tree, wondering why my head felt like porridge and if there's nothing more to life than a distantly blurry image of sunshine and sand. So blinded was I then that I failed to register the actual sun, the one peeping through the leaves. Summer is a time of melancholy, a time of endings. It is a time when we race toward Midsummer, only to remind ourselves that now the days are getting shorter and soon our days, our life, will be an endless winter night. My head no longer feels that oatmeal and I see the real sun, nonetheless, sitting on those stairs, under the birch tree, still fills me with sadness.
“…”But on an occasion like this we must wait for sunset. Setting out in the right way is just as important as the opening lines in a book: they determine everything.” He sat in the sand next to Moominmamma. “Look at the boat,” he said. “Look at The Adventure. A boat by night is a wonderful sight. This is the way to start a new life, with a hurricane lamp shining at the top of the mast, and the coastline disappearing behind one as the whole world lies sleeping. Making a journey by night is more wonderful than anything in the world.”“Yes, you’re right,” replied Moominmamma. “One makes a trip by day, but by night one sets out on a journey.”― Tove Jansson, Moominpappa at Sea
