Have you ever smelled the fog? Creeping in your nose, tickling with its frosty nature. Feeling fresh and old at the same time. Wheat air, low sky. You can touch the heaven, without ever reaching it. You can smell the earth, without toching it with more than your feet. It’s Autumn, the sky is grey in daytime and orange in nightime. And the grass, well it’s vice versa.
The trees are afire. Red and yellow leaves are covering road I am walking. Just walking, in the misty afternoon. Feeling free, and alive. Because I can sence what I am supposed to.
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