That sound

On the fourth day of September my 19-month summer ended. It's cold, still dry, Western European.
Seats are reserved, dates anticipated, but the plausibility of all these future events seems unregistered. I am hoping for a creative, anti-stress and enlightening year.
Exactly in one week time, various planets will engage in taking me to the beginning of my new year and my sun will shine again. Regardless of all the sounds of confusion, I try to stay calm and not to remember any of those recent full-moon dreams. Sitting here on the couch, on a Saturday night, while everybody else is partying out, I feel gloomy and radiant.
Gloomy because something glorious has just ended and radiant because something glorious has just begun. And amidst all this immeasurable glory there is a sparkle of sarcasm.
I have been having islands on my mind all these months, without even slightly noticing that I am going to get one in about 10 days. Not a tropical paradise, but definitely as humid as it could be.

Off of my trail and off of my hands and onto a new plan. Soon, soon. Some time will have to pass before we're confident we deserve a chance.
Until then. Good stuff. Passing the Euro Channel. By coach. Next Sunday.