the poetic story of a great boredom

As a teenager I spent many summers in the mountains. Mom ran a summer library, organized under large holm oaks, chestnuts and downy oaks and there was no other choice but to stay there with her and my sister.

A summer library is a fascinating place, but if you are a teenager, apart from reading under the trees, exchanging a few words with regular readers or taking a stroll to get ice cream, there are very few activities available.

For me, reading became a much loved pastime, observing the trees in their complexity a reason for entertainment, the sound of the wind in the branches a way of feeling life passing by.

Beautiful, poetic, very romantic, the perfect framework to start a teenage novel in which who knows what happens. Very romantic, very beautiful, very poetic and… hardly imaginable boredom.

Then one day the wind changes.

A gust stronger than the others, the leaves that sound differently, drier and the light changes. As we prepare for autumn, we see the first differences: it is still hot in the afternoon, few visitors come, the variety of ice creams available decreases. The moment is approaching when we will return to the village, to a more active life, school, work, projects that are still pending.

I still love the moment the wind changes and now I do not get bored that much.