It feels like fall...well, as much as these southern regions can achieve a autumnal season. The Chinese maples are turning crimson and scarlet, the sycamores are yellowing and the unidentified trees on the ridges of the hills have turned into bright golden splashes against a green background. For, because of the rains, the hills are still green, and there is grass growing on the mounds behind campus. The air, and even the quality of the light, is...distant, cool and remote. The winds carry on them a certain something, a sharpness not felt on the skin, but in the soul.
(I'm not making any sense, but that's ok...I am tired from trying to think about what I am thinking...I don't want to keep loosing my thoughts...)