Autumn evenings are wonderful.They have just a hint of magic. That subtle chill that creeps in. Just right with a slight breeze. A mist rolling in. Echoes of October’s mischief right around the bend. Walking these streets I want to pull the Neon from the tubes. Feel it dance along my fingertips. I want to feel the electric angels.
Even in this dead hour, the lights buzz on. The people slumber, but the city’s magic lives on. Traffic lights burn a never-ending rhythm, the flashing red hand a warning. Sodium vapour hums in its ever watchful gaze. Soldiers at the ready. I am the only living soul they see.
Bricks and signs and windows and doors and benches and symbols. Symbols everywhere. All things we pass by with such cursory attention in the day.
But now I just want to watch. To listen. To feel. I’m an observer in this world. But it all means something. There’s an odd sort of magic to it all. It’s all a semblance of life.
It’s funny what we gloss over when we hurry along. What other stories are hidden on these streets?


What is it about Autumn?

What is it about autumn?   The brisk chill as the world cools over.  The vibrant colors as the trees lose their plumage.  The crisp crunch of leaves underfoot.  But there’s more to it.  A feeling that creeps into you.  No.  It was always there, dormant, waiting to be called out.  That part that revels in shadows and twilight.  Dark, almost sinister, but with the mirth and tricks of a child.  It’s difficult to explain, and the words never seem to match that feeling growing, surging, welling up, and peaking at Halloween.  Maybe it’s the child in me, crying out for release to revel in the joy of autumn…