At some point in the autumn.
Near the end of October, for example.
A path covered with dry leaves and chestnuts to sink your feet.
The apple fritters, swollen with the icing sugar over.
People walk, go, go.
Nobody screams and it is wonderful.
The sun is orange like when you squeeze the lemon in the right place.
I have a house with a pier or a verandah, as an alternative.
To sit there in the evening, looking at things that are waiting for the dark, listening to the sound of many small items that are becoming thinner.
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