Tuesday, November 3, 2015


Colors became a bit subtler. The fierceness and warmth of October has begun its shift into more muted nuances, and by the end of November all the reds, oranges and chocolate browns will have grayed and blackened out. November is so honest, I find.

I read myself to sleep last night.
But just before the calm, lavender scented night carried me away, I read a thought that completely dazzled my attention, and actualized thoughts I could not find the right wording for (so thank you Liz).

"And what are your plans now?" Alma said.
Mr. Pike raised his hands, as though in supplication before heaven.
"It has been so long since I made plans, you see."
"But what would you like to do?" Alma asked.
"Nobody has ever asked me that question before."
"Yet I ask you, Mr. Pike. And I wish for you to give me an honest answer."
He turned his light brown eyes upon her. He did look awfully weary. 
"Then I shall tell you, Miss Whittaker," he said. "I would like never to travel again. I would like to spend the rest of my days in a place so silent -and working at a pace so slow- that I would be able to hear myself living.
The signature of all things - Elizabeth Gilbert

November is a little like this, don't you think? I have such aims, too. Deep down I suppose we all do...

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