Interesting fact of the day, vorba unui amic de-al meu: iulie este luna internationala a picnicurilor. Nu stiu daca faptul in sine e senzaational, dar gasesc amuzanta asocierea dintre picnicuri si atasamentul modei – mai recent sau mai retro – fata de carourile vichy (sau gingham, cum li se mai spune) sau fata de pastelatele macarons (cum e posibil ca o pricomigdala sa devina „it item”?). Intr-un exercitiu de imaginatie facut pe genunchi si ajutata de gasirea unor foarte sic cosuri de picnic pe iLux, iata trei recomandari pe care
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning,
