In between classes extricating women’s gender from women’s arts, early morning exercise regimens preparing for summer, and eye-spying sartorial staples of Gucci horsebit loafers and Loewe Puzzle bags on this past Fashion Week’s street style circuit, year two of three-and-a-half at university is fast coming to a close.
Put simply – I see your Unit Outline, kids, and raise you three months of unadulterated, brain-rested holidaying bliss.
And just like millennial messenger Taylor Swift promised all those albums ago, we’re back to December.
Well, not quite yet.
Nevertheless, no matter how hard the powers that be attempt to tabulate each semester into somewhat of a calendric, anxiety-inducing countdown, time inevitably, and for the most part thankfully, appears to fly by.
Excepting, perhaps, these last three weeks remaining.
Something about getting older and life hurrying to move faster than it did in years before.
Indeed, the sun is setting later, my favourite leather pants have regrettably forfeited to October heat, and my room is buzzing with an excitable pack of mosquitos eager to feed on their prey.
‘Tis the season to be jolly and brush up on your SPF.
Three weeks from now, I’ll reacquaint myself with my camera and return to eight-plus letter words their much deserved silent treatments. It’s high time I broke into a sweat that was stress-free.
That, and hopefully with the aid of Daylight Savings, allow time to slow down, or at least appear to take longer to disappear from November through to early March.
I paused to take this photograph around 7PM in the early wake of 2015, blinked, and now we’re here.
If I could just blink these next assignments away, and continue from where I last left off…