The nights grow shorter, the mornings are cool, the wind is stronger and the leaves of the trees with these earthy tones ... van carpeting the ground.
is the season I like the clouds will fill the sky, at least in my country.
In which I am now ... the harder you fall into, and lasts less, I always said that in the south there is nothing more than two seasons, summer and winter.
miss my fall, their sepia tones in the sky that color mixed with green lovesick My Cantabrian ... is a feast for the senses.
....
How pervasive is the end of the day in the fall! Ay! Penetrating to pain! For there is in him certain bliss, not less intense vague and there is no more steely edge that of the infinite.
large Delight the eyes drown in the immensity of sky and sea! Solitude, silence, chastity of cerulean incomparable! A candle girl, trembling on the horizon, mimetic, in its smallness and isolation of my existence hopeless, monotonous melody of the waves, all that thinks for me, or me for it, because in the greatness of wandering lost self-presto, think, say, but musically and picturesquely, without quibbling, no syllogisms, without deductions.
Such thoughts, however, and out of me, whether arising from things too quickly charge intensity. The energy in the pleasure creates discomfort and suffering positive. My nerves, tired braces, but vibrations are not shrill, painful.
And now the depth of the sky I am dismayed, I exasperate its clarity. The insensitivity of the sea, immutable show infuriates me ... Ay! Is force ever suffer or escape from eternal beauty? Nature charming, ruthless, always victorious rival, let me! Do not tempt more to my wishes and my pride! The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries out in terror before falling due.
Charles Baudelaire
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