Autumn is stitched together with fleeting moments of grace. Janine Boissard / The Children's House
Darkness is already approaching, Apples are falling in the orchards. On the paths where autumn is coming, Summer is slowly leaving.
I know a planet where there is a Crimson Mister. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved anyone. He has never done anything but addition. And all day long he repeats like you: "I am a serious man! I am a serious man!" and it makes him swell with pride. But he is not a man, he is a mushroom!
Red, the maple leaves. Orange, the wild mushrooms. Yellow, the veiled sun. Brown, like the trunk. Beautiful are the colors of autumn!