I like the Summer for one reason and one reason alone: During the summer people oil themselves up and then they go out into the Sun and they mummify themselves for our ( well, my ) edification.
A little sand, a little sun and no water and that’s how mummies were created. I know this much because I am a archaeologist nerd, but there is a big difference between experiencing and just reading about experiences.
Even though I had the privilege of being a mortician’s apprentice and even though I learned the art of embalming, I never got the chance to learn about mummification so I am grateful for this opportunity.
On top of that, I hate Summer and I think people who love it are odd.
I love winter because it is dark, it is quiet and each winter evening is full of mystery and promise and ghosts.
Lots of them.
Winter (Hiver, ou le Loup dans la Neige)
Félix Bracquemondlate 19th century – early 20th century
