My autumn skies darken in the face of November. I let the dried leaves fly away, like all these 2 a.m. memories. Those beautiful faces fade into the silhouette of shadows that no longer follow me. I wonder, how this all came to be.

And as I shift past the corner of Bay and Wellington, the only thing that paralyzes me is how trivial it had all been.

Dear Bondi blues, come back to me.

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