Remember when I mentioned, at the beginning of August, that I had not felt melancholic yet about it? Usually it strikes me in August, what I call the melancholia of August (or the August melancholy, whatever you prefer, the first is more poetic). That feeling which I associate with ending summer, before autumn starts. Well, it struck me this morning, in a strange way: as I was about to go to work, it smelled of school. It struck me by the nose, like when I was a child: the back to school feeling as I call it. Maybe because it was going to be my first day back at work, maybe because my friends all have children starting school, maybe because I have friends who teach and they also start school. But it was there present, irrepressible. A faint feeling melancholia that was just not painful enough. The air was full of the smell.
Well, that was it really. It did not make my day, nevertheless it started it. I could not embrace the feeling, but I let it last and at some point it left me. There is always a consolation: if summer ends, if if I have the back to school blues again, it means that autumn is coming.
Des féministes québécoises à Washington!
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