september was when the clouds finally gathered, when the rains finally came. it was when it all hit you, suddenly, like a brick wall, pulling itself up despite your always trying to dislodge each individual piece. september was when we dove off rooftops, dared the sky, lived in the space between the clouds, and let the rain wash us clean.
we were purer, cleaner, more faithful, then. we were never innocent, but have never been quite so guilty.
milk dissolves in slow, twisting spirals, and you suddenly find yourself sinking to the bottom of another mug, another time, another day. things become so much simpler when you reduce them to the you and i, but in the here and now we don't always remember where we've been, where we want to go.

the slow hand quickens..

treetops will watch over you as you argue, as you pull this way and then that. do you realize? do you see? do you even remember september?