The season of ambers
Another astonishing drawing drawing by Rock Ray.
The city in the volcano.
Drawn and executed from an idea I had for the table top game I'm creating.
This picture also goes straight in the project.
When summer comes, I can't help to look at this and think...
Hey, that's where I am now.
Carved in the flank of a volcano.
I went to volcano high, and volcano college, volcano 3d school, and now, volcano work.
The heat is unbearable.
Hot and humid.
Being on a large river, my city gets shamelessly humid.
It raises the temperature by a couple of degrees like the wind factor decreases it during winter.
but honestly, I'd trade +40 to -40 anytime.
In the winter, you add a couple of layers, and you are warmer, or you move and your body heats up.
In the summer, there's nothing beyond naked.
You sit in your own stew, unnable to move, lazy. Counter productivity has a name.
Everything smells bad in the summer.
The heat has this faculty of getting into things alive or not, and gfet the worst smells out.
Dog excrements (among many other things) are anonymous in the winter.
Frozen solid in a blissful manner that spares your nose from contact with the said olfactory offense.
The heat will also effortlessely puncture your skin to make it's essence visible to all.
The sweat. How fun is it to forget your armpit elixir in a hot summer day?
Aren't the shirts and pants annoying when they get wet and stick to your body?
If you sit for to long, your behind will also not fail to notify with uncontrollable itches.
Work has no AC for the moment, rendering the situation the more hard.
It will be fixed soon I heard.
Maybe I have too much Vicking and Celtic blood in me, but I can't help to favor winter and fall over the intempestive summer.
Besides, in the winter, there is snowboard.
No palm trees for me, nor beach. Pine trees instead waving in the dusk's winter wind.
(I love to stand in the forest by winter evenings, and gaze at the summit of the pine trees. No noise, immuable tranquility. The smell. All too precious of an experience eagerly renewed when snow comes again.)
(I'm also allergic to detergents I think, and when summer comes, the heat and sweat combined liquify the soap that rub on my body, leaving me with the most apparent rashes, and a red collar even when my T shirt is gone.)
Three months before an appointment with a specialist.
By the time, it will be fall.
So I'll wait fall.