The autumn light paints everything golden, wonderful, magical, filled with small bursts of color, and still leaves shadows where little creatures hurry towards their winter nests, carrying morsels of food and things to keep them warm during the long darkness that is winter.
I stayed up late last night, reading Good Omens by Gaiman and Pratchett, and oh Lord, it is funny and imaginative, and good for a weary soul such as I.
Nothing special is happening, just birds hopping on the windowsill, to the great excitement of my three kitties. And no, I still can't see Russia from my window, not even on a clear day.
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