Autumn and her red hair smell of transparent yellow leaves.
But when she comes herself, you feel the motion of life, the vibrations of the thin air, you hear the whisper of trees.
Autumn pleases with silence ... the soul calms down, time slows down ...
Gold and air, she gives true love beyond passion.
It is especially good in the streets of Paris.
Her tears are transparent, the steps are noiseless, and the road is strewn with a dry golden carpet ...
Embracing her leaden clouds, she quietly sits next to her and begins to listen to me.
Evening coolness is wrapped in a warm sweater, or in a light blanket.
In my hands a mug of hot coffee, clear thoughts, do not hurry ...
Helena Crock
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