the poetic story of a great boredom

As a teenager, I spent many summers in the mountains. Mom kept a summer library, organized under large holm oaks, chestnut trees and downy oaks, and I had no choice but to stay there with her and my sister.

A summer library is a fascinating place, but if you're a teenager, other than reading under the trees, exchanging a few words with regular readers, or wandering around to get ice cream, there are very few activities available.

For me, reading has become a much-loved pastime, observing trees in their complexity a source of entertainment, the sound of the wind in the branches a way of feeling life passing by.

Beautiful, poetic, very romantic, the perfect setting to start a novel for teenagers in which you don't know what will happen. Very romantic, very beautiful, very poetic and… a bore that is difficult to imagine.

And then one day, the tide turns.

A gust stronger than the others, the leaves sounding different, drier and the light changing. As we prepare for fall, we see the first differences: it's still warm in the afternoon, there are few visitors, the variety of ice cream available diminishes. The time is approaching when we will return to the village, to a more active life, to school, to work, to projects still pending.

I always like the moment when the tide turns and I don't get as bored anymore.