'who will be the light when daylight doesn't come?'

Outside people are wearing shorts and sunglasses. Inside I'm drinking tea and wearing woolly socks. I've entered autumn mood and there's no going back. The balcony door remains closed while I dream of crisp air and the sound of dying leaves in the wind. I should be producing words of wisdom, but I can't seem to win over this restlessness. I put my headphones on, as you suggested, and let the music absorb me.

'Hold your gun.

You've made it out.

You're safe from all the low.

And over trust he needs it back.

I'm far alone and done.

You've waited all of your life.

To leave it all behind.'