Autumn is coming. The hawthorn fruits have appeared already. I pick them up, thinking of you. Handful. It’s all I have.
Do you know what they smell like? After all these years they smell like nothing.
After all these years of walking towards a house in the middle of the woods, where so many unexpected things happened, so many intense emotions emerged, where so many painful events took place, it still feels like nothing.
I think, I’ll just wait for the hawthorn to wither.
Will I ever get there?