823.

Hearts unknowing of
the secrets between, digging.
False impressions all.

822.

Who knows what will be
abandoned to mystery
when our notebooks speak.

821.

Absence and questions
left strewn among staggered dreams
and love's confessions.

820.

Here times passes in
some caricature of a
Lynch surrealism.

819.

Surrender culled in
the cold hands of mist, reaching.
Casablanca found.

818.

A beautiful cast
of nature, turning. Autumn
in colors bursting.

817.

My world returned to
that place of bounty and fog.
Richly strewn in fall.