You expected to be sad in the fall.
You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.
ERNEST HEMINGWAY, “A MOVEABLE FEAST”
*Listening to Yo La tengo makes things better. Always*