The tail end of autumn's leaves lie in drifts on sidewalks and gutters, a carpet of humus bent on reclaiming the earth--but all in vain. November gusts will soon litter those final fragments of summer over the streets; cars will grind them into the asphalt and their colors will fade as bare deciduous claws reach into the chilly air.
My nap in the reading lounge was quite lovely. No one really knows it exists, so it's usually empty. There's a fireplace, comfy couches and soft lighting, and it's nice and quiet.
The Junkyard Ghosts Revival was fantastic. You'd have had to be there.
Ahhh, Iron and Wine...
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