Have you ever read one good description of a season and its influence? I've never been able to fully capture its effects with words... but I might've come close with a collection of songs I did a few years back that revolved around the season and its imminent change -- here's "change" yet again, with an adjective. Autumn is a clichéd favorite (though no one's actual favorite), obviously as a summer's aftermath, and in it, everything dies... slowly (at times, at an alluring rate), which I used to propagate heavily until... death actually occured at one point in a past autumn (a loss I still mourn). Regardless, I still find comfort in the season, I anticipate it because, honestly, I am ill at ease in summer time, an impression of mine that I've relentlessly pointed out on this journal. August's role is a preemptive one, getting you ready for the (generally percieved) "downer" that is autumn where its gray tones (to whom I owe my increasing notoriety for years of advocation) make me feel genuinely safe. The illusion serves as camouflage for my wrecked physique and past scars, it does not pale in comparison to the remainder of the year where I (somewhat unintentionally) avoid eye-contact, when I can, as though the gaze of my dead eyes generate disapointment and disgust. There's an antique piano that calls out to me, in an old house, far far far far far from the city's harsh lights. It hums soothing notes of loneliness in basement with souvenirs of the funeral.