August has arrived without much warning, or almost. Oviedo wakes to a warmth that does not press yet, as if summer were taking its time to fully arrive.
I like this start of the month that asks for nothing. The streets empty out little by little and the city settles into a soft silence you only notice in August.
I went out walking early, before the sun warms the pavement. The air smells of hydrangeas and of coffee from the terraces beginning to open.
August starts slowly, and so do I. I have decided not to fill it with plans, not to chase after the days.
I sat in the park with my eyes closed, listening to the water of the fountain and the distant conversations.
There is a stillness I only know in summer, a way of being without doing, of letting the body unwind.
Perhaps this month is that: a long breath, permission to go slowly, with no other goal than to be present.