These have always been among the most favourite days of the years. These sweet, lingering moments after Christmas, all the luxuries of the Christmas without the feast’s formality, without anticipation or pressure. This freedom to enjoy and not needing to do anything (having said that, somehow I always end up working or writing during these days). Cold days, good food, snow (in lucky years; but either way, winter break has always been associated with skiing), lights and decorations, friends and peace. Reading, drinking tea, taking trips to the nearby cities. This unnaturally calm climax of the entire ye and the chance to start anew.
Other amazing days used to be those just before the start of the summer break. We were at school but we were not actually doing much, we were slowly transitioning to whatever we wanted to make out of the summer break. Or the start of the academic year (let alone a start of the whole degree) – the anticipation, lenient teachers, the feeling of starting afresh. T
Or my birthday. I’m sorry for anyone whose birthday is not in June (fine, May as well), but it is the time of the year. Still within the academic year so you are not completely unnoticed, but late enough towards the end of it when everything seems easier. And then there is the mild summer sun and first strawberry yields.
But because this year sucks, so do these days this year. They are grey, lonely, and uneventful and I’m supposedly writing a paper. Tomorrow, before writing, I will try to do some linocutting to feel at least a bit productive.