An eternal October is coming again, with a weeping accordion under a grey sky. Always scarlet apples on a shelf of a supermarket are bit acid and always a full moon is probably behind a uncertain veil of evening mist.
I have forgotten how I feel of getting nostalgic. A town where I was growing up has been totally changed, a sea shore I was spending my collage time is already uncertain in my heart and now it is impossible to go back to my home town ten thousand kilo meters far from here. I don’t have so many reasons to think about there anymore.
Nevertheless, a small unexpected thing may bring my thought to my place in memories. Time to time, it might be a taste of beans, a colour of leaves or a smell of blossoms.
A cold and orange cookie was not baked but dried in the sun several weeks ago. Some black spices are not prepared from pepper but with the end of hot weather. Nothing has been changed, and will be.