I only remember the wind, the color of the sky, the unstoppable, slow rain.
The mud outside; the roofs wet.
I remember the color of the trees and the noise the dry leaves make when you crush them.
The orange, yellow and brown shades of nature,
a cold wind indicating the season, the beginning of school, the ending of an era.
I wonder why they call it fall, because no one falls, no one is defeated; instead, a new season arises, new hopes are born.
It was September for me, years ago. I wonder if my falls will change, if I will ever have a first fall again.
And it's true, you never forget your first fall.
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