74.1

Autumn leaves that will become dust, just like the dreams and the hopes that were alive throughout the year. The storms of time will blow them away and then there is a thorough emptiness and a cold that is freezing the soul. The trees on which those leaves once were alive are but ghosts, their branches, moving in the fog, seem to be beckoning you to come yonder, to that eerie land of darkness, of no affection.