The hardest part of summer for me is the relentless length: of days, nights, weeks. I am creative on a deadline,with limitations, with fleeting hours with a bit of delicious misery. Summer offers far too many relaxed hours to think with any depth.
But August is short. August is a three week foreign love affair that you can’t bring back home. August is a beautiful person who just off the subway, or a tomato whose prime you may miss by a couple hours.
August is a sunset, a Sunday. The last hour, of the best party.
If your creativity shines during periods of regret, longing, nostalgia and the ache of accelerated time
August may be for you
Time to invite in September