(Untitled)

[rhapsodyinwhite]

It's autumn. The wind is cold and blistering. The leaves are shades of brown, red, gold, and mahogany. They fall to the ground, as if no longer needing their life source, but instead wish to detach and become entities all to themselves, even though they know they will die and become but a small crinkly piece of nothing that someone walks on

Comments

[arromanches]

*hug*