I took a taxi home today and noticed the first leaves falling. I recalled the fall of 2009, when I came back from Greece towards the end of August. I found it so strange, returning and seeing the first leaves falling so soon in the year. It seemed too soon for them. I recall photographing the yellowish leaves beneath a lime in our neighbourhood that same November.
Of all the leaves that hit the ground that fall, I fell and hit myself the hardest and cried the most.
And then again, in August and September the following year, I saw the first leaves falling, my mind took me back to ’09, and the fall of ’10 was long and I saw it falling endlessly.
And the fall of ’11 has also started falling, and I wonder where the months and years have gone, my darling, for time seems like a second I’ve been replaying on a loop.