^ (n a v i g a t e) ^
1:12 a.m., 2001-11-14
in ten years what will remind me of now? this time of year floats in and out of my consious thoughts every year, and it's always the spidered branches popping up and the spewn chimney smoke and the dead stalks that pull the focus and amplify emotion. in ten years will there still be autumnal dysfunction?fall is a disease inflicted upon every year with the purpose of destroying a perfectly good summer.
someting about seeing my breath urges me to gaze skyward. something about gazing skyward jars my memory to remember that too-early dusk so long ago.
tomorrow.
fall seldom contains many 'firsts', but is overflowing with 'lasts'.
something about that dusk so long ago gives me the impression that every time my back is turned, my life is changing without me knowing.
