Friday, December 9, 2011

Every season has it's own romantic nature about it. Summer nights last forever to the kids who will never grow up and spring afternoons excite the maternal in us because something new has begun yet again. There is something about the desolation of autumn that is so beautiful, the rusted leaves and the barren trees, still in the grey air with a wind that smells of death. Winter evokes a same emotion. Nights filled of snow, the earth looks pure, clean, fresh. A world caked in white tricks us into believing it is untainted. Silence takes over all noise, somehow everything seems perfect.

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