Each year Autumn makes its slow burn to winter.
A wistful time.
A transitional time.
A time all of itself.
Each person’s Autumn has its own timbre,
its own scent.
A last breath.
Inevitable.
Each year Autumn makes its slow burn to winter.
A wistful time.
A transitional time.
A time all of itself.
Each person’s Autumn has its own timbre,
its own scent.
A last breath.
Inevitable.
That evoked the warmth of a campfire very much for me. Love that last photo.