« Another Kind of Thread | Main | November Wordlessness »
24 degrees.
If I had a pumpkin, the frost would be on it. Something carried mine away, in the night.
I imagined Sitting as a Pumpkin. A stray self, Pumpkin Woman. Been at a loss for words really.
Please enable JavaScript if you would like to comment on this blog.
If the path before you is clear,
you are probably on
someone else's.
-Carl Jung