Letter No. 47 - Aesthetically Speaking with Margareta Wingårdh
Between Summer's End and Fall's Promise.
Dear Reader,
I have always found August to be a strange month of dualities, not quite summer, not quite fall. The heat still lingers, but the evenings whisper of cooler nights ahead and the promise of a new start. Sylvia Plath said it perfectly:
“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd …
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