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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

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Comments»

1. Beth - January 2, 2017

Have missed your writing. (Have missed my own, too, but the muse seems to have unpacked and graciously agreed to stay for awhile, finally.) Are you writing somewhere in the world?

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