No. 85

A ridiculous mess of fruit

Good morning.

This October heatwave is like watching a film without the score—it looks the part, is recognizable, but gives an entirely different and haunting experience. The absence of colder weather is itself a thing, a new member, a different group dynamic. As spring and summer balloon outward in the year, I am wishing I had written more, remembered more about autumn and winter. It seems likely to come to that: memories.