The Lying Truth (Moraine)

There I am, sitting on a train, traveling on this somehow warm day. I do not know why I
expected it to be cold. - Maybe it is the season, which, honestly, I do not entirely comprehend.

  • It feels like a metamorphosic season. Outside of the window, it is warm, but it feels cold. The
    warmth of the autumn tones blends with a cold zephyr.

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