The temperature, the atmosphere, the colours, the mood—all of a sudden, everything has changed.
It didn’t necessarily change for the worse, but it’s tough to adjust.
The temperature finally dropped on Sunday and dark, grey clouds started looming over the city. No one seemed to know how to dress—it wasn’t cold but it was definitely ten degrees cooler, it wasn’t rainy but a thunderstorm was bound to break out.
I traded the beach for the French countryside and I met up with my dad at his parents, in the middle of wine country, a few kilometres from Nantes. It’s a different world over there and it’s not my kind of place. Admittedly, vineyards are picturesque, but the region feels gloomy—wide open spaces, not a soul around except a few residents who all hate each other (local traditions include getting drunk and shooting “intruders,” i.e. any neighbour you’re currently feuding with), absolutely nothing to see or visit.
Back in Nantes, a thunderstorm drenched us to the skin. It’s not just us, the streets are full of tourists who were at the wrong place at the wrong time and couldn’t find shelter fast enough.
There’s less sun, less light, and suddenly we feel more tired, less enthusiastic.
I need a bit more summer. I’m not ready for fall or whatever comes next.