So long, old friend

Summer 2020 will undoubtedly go down in history. A summer of fragments, like a mirror shattered, its thousands of tiny pieces sparkling under the sun. Each piece a memory that will fade away over time but will remain forever etched in our minds, imprinted after being retold to friends, family, and (hopefully) generations that didn’t feel it or see it.

I’ve written about the end of summer before – September is such a strange time, I sometimes think of it like a giant cloak billowing overhead, parachuting down in slow motion to envelope us as the evenings get shorter, the temperatures cooler. But this year, the gradual change in season feels even weirder after our encounter with a new virus, a virus that even the world’s top scientists and doctors don’t fully comprehend. It’s hard to explain, hard to understand, hard to believe – like a thrilling sci-fi movie, the tension building slowly as the minutes tick by… something is brewing. The calm before the storm, the unconfirmed feeling creating a sense of unease.

Usually, this is a time of year for a last-minute holiday, booking long weekends in country hotels, planning for Christmastime. This year, plans are on hold, or are loose at best. It feels like people are enjoying these last few days of warm sun, enjoying being free if they can be. It’s a time to live in, and for, the moment. There’s no time to waste and yet all the time in the world.

I’m wearing

Jeans, Zara
Top, M&S
Sunglasses, Spex Pistols (gifted)
Trainers, Air & Grace (gifted)
Bag, Mulberry at Bicester Village (bought with VIP discount card)


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