Marcel Winatschek

Seasons: Light, Lost

Summer ends fast. You’re still wearing the same clothes, the sun’s still up late, and then one morning the light hits the kitchen at a different angle and you realize you’ve already lost it. The long days don’t fade gradually—they just stop. By October you’re leaving work in the dark, and the whole rhythm of the day has compressed into a smaller window. It’s not sad exactly. It’s just the weight of it, how quickly the year turns cold and the hours go thin.