Yet, here u won't see anything other than autumn. No scorching hot sun, no cicada fused into a single multi-million-antenna body chorusing in the early morning, no dampened sweat, no ice-cream, no flip-flop. Only the rustle of the yellow leaves, the crisp autumn air, the sulky river, morning dew.
What i felt this afternoon cutting my path through the outdoor multi-purpose ground was one of hollowness. Stifling hollowness indeed. And severed entrails. The grass that just sprouted on the ground, flowers that await blooming, leaves that fell from the trees, everything blended onto a single blurred image. The sky was very blue indeed - a sweet unblemished blue that is here and there tainted with silky threads of white clouds. Yet it was a definite, unquestionable kind of blueness - the kind of precarious, outright and unconcealed lust that is felt by looking at a beautiful girl. Voluptuous was the mountain line, far-stretching was the sky - all exerting their physical existence as if to mock the melancholy mind.
And there goes the song