I can smell autumn coming.
Every year I sense it approaching and get shivery, waiting.
This year I enjoyed the summer, oddly enough, and still I am waiting for it.
The colors, the smells, the symbols. Layering clothes, rotting leaves, the burdens of harvest, I like it all.
NaNo is coming, too. I feel like doing it, though I don't know *why*. Or what
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