The fall has been amazing this year.
For the first time in my memory, there wasn't Indian summer.
Instead, November covered us with fog.
Colors disappeared. The maples fell. Sepia took over the world.
There's Monochrome both outside and inside.
And there is no escape from it.
The sepia is slowly and steadily approaching,
like that amber sand,
that crawled on me in a career of my almost prehistoric childhood.
I immersed myself in the off-season spleen like a wasp in strawberry jam,
because of sepia.
I miss the colors badly.
And so I want to travel to Gurzuf for an hour at least.
There's remote Chekhov's house by the sea.
The see is emerald with white foam on the top the waves
looking like innocent lambs.
The park in the Raevski estate is evergreen.
The sepia can not absorb it.
I'd like to swim in the sea.
I would dive from the pier and quickly swim to shore.
The shock of the cold water would pass quickly.
For a moment I would feel like a newborn child.
And the world, my World, would become colorful again.
And you don't have to go to the Crimea or the Adriatic.
All you need is perceiving the moment. Here and now. In the morning.
You would smile. Ravens wouldn't croak on your background.
Sepia would disappear. People would smile again.
That's worth living on this planet again and again.
13.48 22.08 2021
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© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2021