I'm a profoundly obsessive person
it feels okay to say that in 2024
Dear reader,
It's 6 a.m. The air outside my window is eerily quiet and deathly still. The sky is a washed-out milky grey, and everything is motionless when I look at the tree branches and allotments below. The scene seems frozen in time.
Autumn is coming. An end and a beginning. A bittersweet melancholy sprinkled with an unknown yet undeniable excitement.
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