Friday, November 11, 2005

Seasons Greetings


Autumn is unquestionably my favorite season, although I don’t like the cold weather that goes with it.

Foto’s taken by Dutched Pinay at Oude Gracht and Twijnstraat aan de Werf in Utrecht.

The trees, its leaves… they are simply beautiful, for the colors of green have exquisitely turned into numinous shades of yellow, orange and brown. It spawns so much unspoken character and impact, without much effort. And it brings forth a strong urge to convey something dramatic, something peculiar, something grand, and something that ends but later begins.

Ah mystery, that’s probably why I am captivated with autumn…


I grew up equating snow to Christmas. All those engrossing Hollywood propaganda’s about winter has brought me to realize how fake TV really is.

The only thing magical of winter is when it snows hard and when it stays thick, enough for you to make a snowman. Other than that, it’s all bloody ice cold hell! There is nothing delightful and beguiling with having to walk with two frozen feet and losing your balance on the road because it’s damn slippery, or being the unlucky recipient of sharp angry pangs of chilly wind slapped against your face, while being covered in silly layers of clothing, that upon a quick check in the mirror, you’d think... where do this dwarf-like mascot come from?

Although in all honesty, I’d love to see a heavy blizzard happening right now with snow capped buildings in sight tomorrow morning, but alas winter in the flatlands is as humdrum as its landscape can bid.

I think I like winter but certainly not a Dutch one.


Spring is lovely no doubt. Like the budding of nature aroused from its deep slumber, is spring the season to symbolize and celebrate man’s joyous life. And as zestful as it is, let me also explicitly declare that spring is the better twin of summer... yet it has this seemingly fragile sheath hovering above it, kind of like an unfamiliar intuition beyond my grasp.

Could it be because spring is too transparent? Too brazen that it doesn’t have an enduring character?

Just like those flowers that blossoms in April, they all wither in May…


I was born in a country with 365 summer days all year round. When its 22C outside, people start wearing jackets; they say they don’t want to catch a cold [tries not to laugh].

The sun is the enemy. It makes me tired; my skin breathes but if exposed too much, is set off to wrinkle damnation. I suffer migraine attacks from it too, but luckily so far, I have escaped from the on the brink of fainting helplessly performance in the streets because there is a heat wave pandemic.

So I don’t know if I really like summer. Maybe if there is A/C?

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