The best aspect of ending is the little adrenalin of what may be and what is to come when this familiar sequence of rituals and routines ends. What a thrill.
Strange joy is provided by the arrival of a certain Hamletian stalemate. To do or not to do, what do do, options are so wast and can be absolutely irrational and this is the reason for the thrill.
Been so long standing and squawking with trimmed wings which suddenly have whiteout announcement grown out, to their full length without anyone around being aware. To go Belgrade, or Spain or London or Berlin or Zagreb or Mexico or anywhere but this island, away from this island of the eternal summer.Repeated squawking of history in every language possible at a press of a button, like a plastic toy with plastic buttons for eyes. Have paid debt to the rational secure needs of mothers and now will finally shackle free leave slave ship, rowing in sameness week in week out.
The days are passing now illuminated by sun and reflections of the sea passing trough clouds. Autumn is coming. God bless the rains. The storms. Even the sun is fresh again some how, palm and olive and cypress trees are head banging in joy. Yes the end of summer.
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