red
japanese maple leaves flap wildly. torn about by the intermingled forces of wind, gravity and its own understandable tendency to want to
hold on to something.
its plight isn't helped by the sheets of grey rain tearing down from the equally grey sky, beating on my unprotected head and dripping down my forehead, between my eyes, slapping with a satisfying sound on my
black leather jacket (yes, i feel suitably guilty) as I march determinedly along the concrete path to the next stop in my infuriatingly
cyclical existence.
stopping only a moment to notice the interaction of
and