foraging in autumn
four-walled secret lies among the hessian
... i'm motioning still, they stand inside me
~ [flicks - frou frou]
~ [flicks - frou frou]
autumn fills me with so much anxiety because i understand that i have a small window in which to act before everything goes still again.
summer is an inherently stationary season; all i can feel is the heat, the air barely moving. 16 hours of daylight illuminates everything, every detail, indiscriminately. i sit and observe everything. there is too much. i can remain idle, and still be awarded with joy simply for having a pulse and leaving my house. it's weird: classical truths about cause and effect apparently denature above a certain temperature.
but then autumn comes; shorter days force redundant details back into shadow (finally, i can see again), the wind picks up the ideas that i haven't seen since april, like dust that had settled. now, there is a short window in which i can feasibly harvest these thoughts, catch them before the winter storms whip them out of reach, before snow settles and muffles all sound. foraging is exhausting, but i adore it. i fervently stock up on what i can, being mindful to choose only that which can sustain itself through the cold months. shivering with awe and fear and the chill that comes with realising you ought to have brought a coat.
leaves crunch beneath my feet and somewhere, far off, someone is burning all of the summer excess. decay can purify, i think?
14/11/25