It is autumn where I live and the breeze is pleasant. The trees have begun to turn golden and red like flames. The smell of bonfires and cinnamon linger on cotton garments everywhere. I can see the sun already beginning to set from here. From my window seat where I ponder all things. I ponder the movement of the earth and time with fervor. I ponder how fickle all things are, how beautiful and strange. I’m hit with nostalgia like the waves upon a rocky shore. Nostalgia for a place I have not seen or known before. The places novelty candles summon with their notes, colors, and aesthetics. I think of you and sigh, I dearly miss my Autumn.
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