Today, the picture on the street is consonant with the thought of Al Quotion in "Spare parts of improvisation": "Autumn is the time of poets and brooding women, the time when the scales tilt and the unbridled rage of life is waning.
Dust settles in autumn. Dust of experiences hitting bare nerves, dust of crazy ideas and almost begun achievements
The sky cools down in autumn. And along with it the animal roar of passion cools down, becoming a quiet, pacified tenderness "🤔