Deep into your soul. And nostalgia can grab you and get hold of you any moment in the middle of September’s business and to-do lists. Don’t get me wrong. I truely love the golden month of September. Its enthusiastic efficiency and structure after August’s laissez-faire, its best intentions for new everday routines, the feeling of having a new chance to make it all work out, the morning meditation intents, the healthy cuisine for the kids, the perfection of time schedules. And I am not trying to talk myself into this. I mean it. I guess.
But I do keep wondering what it is – this cult about this very season of the year. Why we tend to ask so much from those three months – June till August. We expect them to bring us nothing but happiness, lightness and freedom. And for some reason, most of the time, they do. No matter if it is the wild atlantic ocean or a soft little Bavarian lake. For me it is simply the element of water on my skin that is in charge of my addiction to summer.
The wind on a boat ride and the humid shadow in the woods, knowing you can dive into the refreshing blue right afterwards.
Sometimes the most popular water spots are even more enchanting on “bad weather” days, when nobody is there to look and you almost seem to catch them in their intimate moment of self-recovery and peace.
The pastel-forever evening moments – barfeet outside. And I confess I am super proud of the following shots. As always I did not touch a single filter or photoshop buttom (apart from the fact that I don’t have photoshop anyway, I prefer life off the screen and in real scenery) and the colours turned out just the way they were looking down from the sky these evenings.
So, this is how it goes: When the end of summer approaches, try to cross the bridge to September smoothly and gracefully and allow yourself some nostalgy when turning around and enjoying the view. Just like this old black-and-white film does. I found it in my father-in-law’s film box – the price tag still said “Schilling” on it.