Fall is in the air today, and I can't get enough of it. The air is cool and crisp, cold enough for a jacket, yet I have my window wide open - the breeze washes over me and makes me want to wrap myself in dark brown corduroy and lie under the stars, build a bonfire, sip scalding cider, try some hot rum. It flutters the fabric behind my bed, the fabric that covers the cinder-block wall, the fabric my brother brought with him from Malaysia. It makes me yearn for birch trees, for orange and red and yellow maple leaves, for brown leaves that crunch under my feet. For shorter days that are full of perfect apples from our tree, tart and sweet, for hearty soups and stews, for pumpkin pie and days spent baking and mornings when the world is turned silver with frost.
Days like today, I can feel London - the heavily moist air swirling around me, the dark clouds scudding across the sky as I traipse down twisted side streets, and for a ghostly second, I can hear the rumble of carriages, the clack of horses' hooves, fragments of Old English, and then they're gone in a chilly breath of wind.
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2 comments:
ja, hot buttered rum... la magnifique.
-C
Thank you, Karim. :)
(Courtney, you poser. ;P)
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