old years' melancholia

New Years Eve is always one of the strangest and most curios days. 

It is the last day of this year. 

The year itself feels as old as time at this point. It has been patient and tolerant. It had to be, to survive all the accusations, defamations and insults of it's harsh critics. To live through all the vulgarities of the people, that it so generously provided with 365 days. 

Now the old year looks back at it's work and is quite content despite all the horrors, weirdness and catastrophes it saw. After all, there have been good moments as well. Moments filled with laughter, incredible happiness and almost impossible love.

There have been worse years. Better years as well, to be completely honest, but a year can only do so much.

Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. 

It worked through all of it, and is about to lay it's weary head to rest and die.

It is time to end it's time. 

Now and finally, cut-off from all hopes, expectations and strong impulses; it remains just a another year in a long line of years past and years to come.

Nothing special, but nothing ordinary either. 

A year is a year. 

Nothing more and nothing less.

It only provides us with time and it is up to us to decide what to do with the days, hours and seconds given to us.

Photograph by eve arnold and me.