The October Country October 26, 2016Posted by The Typist in Toulouse Street.
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