Talking Italian

[cyrano]

The atmosphere tonight is different. There's a charge in the air. And what passes for a chill in these parts. The moon glows china white, and the pinpoint stars are bright. I walk and something pushes at my back, urging me to run. I smell of green things, from when I fell down the stairs and steered myself into a bush to avoid the cement. But my nose is full of a sharp herbal presence. The vestigial primal core inside me wants to come to the surface but it's still too polite to do so.

Autumn, she is definitely acomin' on.