Almost this time of every year, I was impresed with this city’s vibrant autumn colours and couldn’t help taking photos or writing some posts. I was under an impression of that I am a person who loves autumn and admires its beauty from mother natural’s stunning chang-overs during a short period of time. Autumn is just cool and always my answer to “your favourite season” question.
Recently I realised that this is not always true. I hate wearing too many layers, I hate the chill sneaking from the feet up coming till my fingertips; I hate cold wind blowing and making a mess to my hair and cracked my lips; and I hate seeing leaves falling and trees getting bald…Everything in autumn is just giving the message about dying and fading but nothing else.
On the way home today, I felt some very unplesant autumn smell in the air mixed with those bad memories in relation to coldness and unmercy chill of Beijing’s winter. I recalled how they used to crush my mood in some pretty bad ways in the past. If you think carefully, there is really no good reason to love, to cheer or to celebrate. I just couldn’t believe why I had ever said that I liked autumn.
Isn’t it a shame that something can take you ages to realise it is not what you really want?



