The leaves are turning yellow now. A dirty shade for the most part. Constant showers have robbed the trees of the glorious autumn red and graced them instead with a kind of dirty brown... depressing really. The days grow shorter, and bleaker and my spirits trod downward with them, a solemn march toward the gloom of winter.
But I stray from that path... sometimes...
Sometimes, when she's there, the world doesn't seem so bleak, the days not so cold, the sky not so bloody depressingly grey... Sometimes, when music rings in my head, and I feel the pulse of the beat and rejoice in clear harmonies, all the world seems well... Sometimes, when I take a stroll and feel at peace with God and men, basking in the wonder of nature... Sometimes...
More often than not though, I'm just annoyed at how many papers I have to write tomorrow...
He dodged beneath the protective bricks of Ginkgo's entrance, despite the relative harmlessness of the light drizzle. Spreading a wind-blown and slightly damp chunk of newspapers over the rough paving, he seated himself outside the closed coffee shop and whipped out a notebook, studying it intently. Cars on the normally busy Snelling Avenue were a small but constant presence this time of night, punctuating his thoughts with the occasional revving of an engine. He reflected on this, while despairing over the careless and callous bus driver who had ignored his plea to be taken home. It all was mildly miserable really...
The patient wait for a called-in ride stilled the depression somewhat however, calming the immediate rage inspired by the bus driver's atrocious misconduct. He became pensive, poring cross-legged over the contents of his notebook. Idle thoughts of the day's events wandering over the expanse of a temporarily halted existence...
Thoughts of smiles and cheery faces wafted up and down across his imagination, expanding, if only briefly, a narrow and harried universe.
A familiar silver station wagon stopped at the roadside however. The reprieve was over, and his universe was once again, a little smaller... He packed his notebook away, and hurried back to the bustle...
