November

There is something that is to be found in November nights like these.

My senses receive more.

Dark, dried, heavy footsteps peeping at few people on roads.

A drive to experience life so deeply but from afar.

It is like writing into some sense of an ending. Mild winters have always drawn me close.

Like a child in a blanket.

Afraid to move out, playing like a loner, sunk in some story.