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The October  Country October 26, 2016

Posted by The Typist in Toulouse Street.
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Out of the long silence a telegram from where I am. Reading, of  course, and why not bathe my chronic melancholia in a bit of October Gothic as the days darken toward Halloween.

“October Country . . . that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain. . . .”

— Ray Bradbury