Everywhere is orange. The last time this happened was the summer of 2003. But I missed it. I spent that August in the green and white of the Alps. I took a photograph of a donkey, but I’m missing that now. I remember getting back to find a September of yellow. It was like something had happened everywhere to everything. But I hadn’t seen it. I hadn’t seen the change of it. This time however, the yellowy, pinky, orange has introduced itself slowly over months, and I have got to know the difference as well as the sameness of it. It’s turned me orange. It’s even turned the sky orange. This heat of 2018. Which is so different to the heat of 2003 – which, to me, will always be green and white. Even though on the last day in the Alps it snowed so much it was all white.