The summer ended. Day by day, taking its time. The noises in the street began to change, diminish, voices became fewer, the music sparse. Such trees as there were allowed their leaves to fall - they fell unnoticed - seeming to promise, to try and survive one more round of death and rebirth. At night, from a distance, the parks and playgrounds seemed inhabited by fireflies, and the night came sooner, inched in closer, fell with a greater weight. The sound of the alarm clock conquered the sound of the tambourine, the houses put on their winter faces. And I caught myself staring down a bitter landscape, seeming, not without bitterness, to have resolved to endure another year.
