Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade away without anyone noticing.
One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it’s pitch-black.
A great warm, dark silence surrounds the house.
It is still summer,but summer is no longer alive.
It has come to a standstill; nothing withers, and autumn is not ready to begin.
There are no stars yet, just darkness.
The can of keroseneis brought up from the cellar and left in the hall,and the lamp is hung up on its peg by the door.(August) - P133