I’ve always loved November. The promise of cold mornings and nights, of incoming desert winters, the crunchtime in regards to exams, a general nostalgia that lingers in the air.
The smell of the beach. The fog over Marina. The signs of which are already so apparent this morning, at 7:30am, in October. My favorite sight in the world after the pinks rays of sunlight that flaunt themselves from behind a veil of clouds.
Snuggle-weather. New Years. Winter break. Thoughts of Lahore and, newly, promises of Boston. Good music and good company and nights out in the Marina, the scent of minty, grape-y shisha and distant chattering.
I can’t wait.