Andrew W.K. on Autumn | VICE
I moved to Michigan from California when I was four years old. I got a new house, a new school, and, eventually, some new friends. But perhaps best of all, I got new seasons. Four of them, to be exact.
For me, the arrival of fall brightened the corners of life in an unexpected way. Suddenly the suffocating shroud of hot summer air was lifted. The blinding white sunlight gave way to more sensitive amber hues. All parts of nature seemed to point toward hidden meanings and possibilities. Red, orange, and yellow leaves clung desperately to the trees before becoming a rich mixture of brown, somehow representing the essence of earth itself, a kind of life force emerging through decay.
The air was sharper and more urgent. The world smelled like possibility. And when someone came in from outside, that magical woodsy tree scent clung to them, somehow making them more human and more animal at the same time. More alive. Autumn is the season of feeling.