Unnatural Aesthetics

Most people tell me that during the changing of the seasons, they smell the next thing coming. I think that that's weird. I smell nothing, I feel the seasons.

Spring feels like the pulse of a heart, pressure that escapes in rainy days and builds in the calm while everything grows. Every gust feels like the grass on the skin and most things are soft and light in the season, like a newborn.

Summer is a grueling time that feels wrong. the air is as damp and moist as the things you touch, your body feels trapped by a wall of wetness and heat that's inescapable. The air feels heavy and burdening.

Fall is like a cracked egg shell, the world seems fake and the atmosphere, brittle. The very ground seems to give way and the environment is dead.

Winter is a time of nothingness. Cold is something you can engage, unlike the other months, nothing is apparent, the world is fake and you feel like a speck of dust in a vacuum without boundaries. The void is piling around you as you wish for a new season will come, but the folds of the land and dunes, masses of snow, captivate your emotions and give you a hedonistic thrill where your eyes give you a sense of beauty from the despair you get from the white blindfold you suddenly are wearing. The unnatural aesthetics of what isn't or shouldn't, shouldn't amaze you, but as a rule, do. This blindfold is fought against, because white turns to yellow and yellow becomes black. A corruption of the curtain angers you, for the grit that was mixed into the mounds are much less appealing, yet necessary. You don't want to touch the surface of the mucky hilltops, you prefer the mountains of pale. You realize that, you are small in the ocean of walls and feel a happiness that you can't explain. Then it slips...

The purity of this world is broken as you welcome in a new era that passes the anguished beauty of the one before just as it becomes tolerable.