*A few days ago we bought an umbrella, it doesn´t really work with wind.
So this is winter in Patagonia. I often ponder as it pours refrigerated water outside for 3 straight days, then burst with toaster oven sunlight on the fourth.
I wonder how one night can be so cold that no fireplace can flame enough to de-thaw your extremities, while another finds you in only a T shirt and underwear as you comfortably type a blog at 2 o'clock in the morning.
Is this weather truly as indecisive as I am?
Maybe it just has so many passions that it can't decide which is best.
Maybe it has a well developed idea of what it is, but has an addiction to "questioning".
Maybe it thinks that seasons limit our actual being and weather is simply a state of consciousness.