Evenings that belong to the summer's end can seem quite saturnine. With one's window open into the city's night air, you can breathe nostalgia directly into your lungs. People are either out accumulating more memories to carry into the wintertime, or they are indoors sorting through the memories of yesterday.
Solitude or distraction. There seems to be no in between, here. Always one or the other. Perhaps one even is the other. The hands of time always ticking away at the age of the skin. Souls desperately searching the dark rooms of castles hoping to find their mates. Psyches working overtime while remaining forever anonymous. Broken hearts nursing themselves back to health as best as they can. Few ever make a full recovery.
From such great heights of a desert mountain, one can see the grid of civilization lit up like Christmas lights. The steam and smoke of factories. The crawling of traffic. We all seem like directionless little bugs wandering through a large carnival. Yes, a large carnival with seasons separated by emotions, and emotions separated without unity.
Summer nights bring such awkward thoughts and feelings.
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