Nevermind Halloween, late autumn is vastly still and deep, hopeless and gay, lending the vapory throngs a membrane for transposition. They drift in the unstable spherical atmosphere, which clacks against the moon and the earth, like 3 billiard balls in a clattering tercet, and peak in and dart about, peak beyond the mind and into the gritted wooeds.
Feathery, dusty, willowy peals beam down the hillside and up into space.
Creeeepy.
Embrace it.
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