the air is light on my skin and these lungs are full with the promise of leaves and tea and hearty soup - this weather makes me feel romantic. build a nest, preen and nestle down for the long haul romantic. In a month, I'll be sad, longing for the sun, but right now, the idea of apocalyptic red leaves mixing in with apple cider makes me want to die an autumnal death. decomposing slowly in the cold, hard mud, my skin would fall off my bones in a wonderful turn of the earth.
we forget we are and come from the earth.
in other news, should i get this hat?