It’s probably too late in the year for espadrilles and shorts but the eighteen endless summers in my bones refuse to resonate with the colder months. My life currently revolves around chaotic piles of books, essential readings and untidy notes I have yet to make sense of. I find solace in my morning coffee before that dreadful first lecture of the day. I keep up with my friends, some old, some new. And some I never thought I would call again. I don’t know if I will get used to seeing less of my man. I hold onto him just a little longer everyday before we part ways in the morning, then I spend the rest of my day trying to push back the thought of wanting to curl up in bed watching classic flicks with him. It’s only been a few days into third year but I am already fed up. I think of how I don’t want to be a lawyer but see the point in attaining a law degree. Caramel and rust colored leaves tumble down in brisk autumnal notes; the corpse of what once was summer. I catch my breath just in time. Days are getting shorter and the nights feel longer. This city is painting itself in varying tones of melancholy with a wistful larghetto. I hate it. Everything seems so categorically sombre. I so terribly miss the texture of lightweight fabric against flesh and sandy toes and ice cream melting too quickly. Days too hot for sleeves and the sun kissing your tan to a deeper shade of olive. But I have made peace with the declining temperatures. There have been more scarves, knits, trench coats and lavender fig candles in my shopping basket than is necessary. These days I feel the incessant need to wear all types of hats too. Right now, my absolute most favourite thing to adorn my head is this baker boy hat. I especially adore how well it complements my classic flap and almost everything I wear. My wardrobe is starting to see darker, more dingy hues; because September was weeks ago and summer is a dream away. So many signs autumn is settling in, then in the blink of an eye, it would all fade out into the long winter. And for one desperate moment, I find myself hoping I’m not going to spend too much of it wishing it away.