Autumn is a very deep season for me as the skies close in, close down, wrap around you as if encouraging you to turn inward as you wander around mesmerized by the scents of decaying leaves, the blinding colors of the leaves, reminding you that mortality is spared no thing. I've done my share of wandering Ann Arbor, NYC, Paris, Amsterdam... & there's a noticeable difference in people as if they're already looking for the hearths they no longer own. There's a delicious, enveloping melancholy that almost seems to explain the path of your life. It is like the inverse of spring; spring is gutless, shallow, facile, overrated, summer involves indulgence & respite, winter is the time when you take what you’ve learned on your autumn sojourns & try to make some vague elegant sense of it.
