"It's strange that words are so inadequate. 

Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, 

so the lover must struggle for words."

-T.S. Elliot

I'm much more the asthmatic struggling for breath than I am the lover struggling for words; I have the words, just not enough breath to so much as whisper them. I'm asphyxiated for much of the day, but I get along just fine- I never was one for breathing much anyway. Aside from that, who needs a voice these days? We let our fingers do the talking; our cameras do the seeing; our computers and calculators do the thinking. I get by just fine doing nothing they tell me I need to do.

But enough of that nonsense. Let's talk October.]

If every month were like October, the world would smell and taste and feel so much nicer. BUt I'm glad every month is not like October; I like that there are only 31 days out of the year that the Universe can sabotage for me. The rest of the days don't always matter much to me.

I want to go pretend I can pick up pumpkins.

I want to drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes.

I want to shiver in a sweater and watch the sunset and bask in the orange glow that is October air.

Nothing's gonna change my world...