Weekend Note / 08.

Weekend notes are short-form POVs.

I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing; when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing. 

Tove Jansson, “Moominvalley in November”.

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I've never liked August. It's always struck me as a slow month, and a lonely one, as everyone vacates the city in droves for late-in-the-season getaways. It's also around this time each summer when I begin to lose patience with the heat, taking up Dracula-like residence in my top-floor apartment. "Remind me why everyone looks forward to summer again?" I asked Lily this afternoon, as we sat in the center of an elaborate system of fans, our laptops balanced precariously atop stacks of books to distance us from their radial heat.

Still. Tove Jansson writes about borders beautifully. So beautifully that I feel warmed to the idea of August, if anything, for its in-betweenness and for what lies on the other side.

Mikio Hasui, whose words I posted here last Monday, based an entire photo series on the fog that obscures tree-covered mountains. "I was thinking that if the fog wasn't there, and it was just a mountain covered in autumnal leaves," he says, "the experience...would've been pretty boring. It was beautiful because it was hidden."

August contains all the exquisite romance of moments leading up to something wonderful - of what's perfect and pure and unspoiled because it has yet to happen. Most uncomfortable transitions in life, now that I think of it, have given way to something better. Opened doors to strange and startling places. Illuminated possibilities crisp, bright, brilliant as fall. 

Thank you so much for reading. Wishing you all, near and far, a wonderful weekend.

Photo by Max Wanger.