I remember being a kid and freezing up after morning baths on school days during the harmattan. My teeth would chatter and I'd try to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. It usually ended in tears.
The dry air, the dust, the smell of fried rice and turkey and the sweet-crisp wind of the one day that doubles as both Christmas and my birthday. Harmattan is a pretty special season and I wrote a pretty love song set within it's golden leaves. I hope you love it and that it fits somewhere in your playlist.