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Do we strip off hope like clothes? Your beautiful question made me
think of Gantenbein, who puts on and takes off the possibly fitting stories for a singular experience like clothes.
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I wonder if hoping is something that rides inside us?
Something like a ghost (remember our conversation about in-spiration?).
And whether this ghost wears different vestments, whether – thinking further – we are just one of its clothes, an old skin that is left behind when it moves on?
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Perhaps, like the emperor with the new clothes, he is the truest and least to be endured when he is completely disrobed.
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theemperorsnewclothes, moulting, awildernessofmirrors, ghostrider
I found a list of English autumn words. ‚Feuillemort‘ is on it,
of course, and also ‚crepuscular‘ from the Latin word ‚crepusculum‘ meaning ‚twilight‘.
‚Crepuscular rays‘ are a phenomenon of atmospheric optics. The direct solar radiation
is blocked by clouds and appears to come out at their edges. Water and dust particles
in the air – the aerosols – scatter these rays with a small angle and thus direct them into
the observer’s eye. The rays become visible in front of the dark and shady cloud backdrop. They triumphantly dance a Nevertheless.
‚Petrichor‘ is on that same list.