At the end of December, I get a nice feeling that the world is ending and things are dead. The roads are deserted and there’s just silence. I love the dead silence of December, the abyss it allows me to walk into. I love to walk those leafless streets with a cigarette in my mouth.
As December passes by, I become sad and sadder. I think of everything the year could have brought to me but I didn’t strive for them. Things I didn’t accomplish. It’s hard to let the year go, with a sigh of regret. You tell yourself that you’ll work harder next year. And all the while you also have to let your favourite month go slowly. The fear of letting it go makes me start to miss December as soon as it begins.
And then just when things are dead, you celebrate Christmas and New Year. Life is just beautiful.
