Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade without anyone's noticing.
One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it's pitch-black.
It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive.
they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.
- Marcel Proust
Count your age by friends, not years. Count your life by smiles, not tears.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
Wishing colorful & warm August!
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