While nodesurfing mindlessly to waste time that doubtless shouldn't be wasted, I've been encountering here and there a few reminders of last summer: books I read then, things I did, feelings I had at the time. It's the end of winter now; the sky is clear today for a change and a cold sunlight is coming through my blinds, but it only makes my mind drift back more.

Last year I had a good summer. I remember the end of the school year (my final year of high school, and good riddance), when the winds were finally dying down and things were warming up. I could wear a t-shirt outside without clenching my gut. All I could think about was finding a grassy hill and staring up at the white cumulus clouds, my ears full of music.

That pretty much is all I did last summer. I liked going out during the day, I stayed up all night, I spent time outside. The world really seemed like a friendly, enjoyable place. It actually offered me inspiration.

It's not warm now. I don't feel comfortable. The grass here in Canada is still a dead brown, and the trees are grey skeleta of their lush summer selves. Even supposed evergreens seem to be just as dull and brown as the fallen leaves and withered flora surrounding them. I'm sure if I could pull back completely into my mind right now, the scenery would look much the same: grey, lifeless, pessimistic. There is little inspiration here, even though this is when I need it the most.

It's not the heat of summer that I miss. It's the sense of freedom, the idea that I'm doing everything for me. It's the colour that fills the world and spills over into my mind, even if just for a little while.