coffeelove

I hear the wind rustling the trees, the autumn storms are upon us. The tree across the road from me looks both frightening and beautiful at the same time, its leaves still clinging on. How do they do that?
I am drinking a tea called Autumn Flirt.
Madrugada. Meaning dawn, the blue hour, a French expression (l'heure bleue), twilight, the period each morning and evening where there is neither full daylight nor complete darkness. He sings of lip stick, leather and chrome, of Dylan passed around, in the backseat of his car, blondes with curls, of beauty as pure as tears.

Wake me up when something has changed.