Late OctoberCarefullythe leaves of autumnsprinkle down the tinnysound of little dyingsand skies satedof ruddy sunsetsof roseate dawnsroil ceaselessly incobweb greys and turnto blackfor comfort.Only loverssee the falla signal end to endingsa gruffish gesture alertingthose who will not be alarmedthat we begin to stopin order to beginagain.
-maya angelou
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