I found a photo (on flickr) that describes this time of the year for me:
This is autumn, November specifically. After the leaves have fallen and the trees are left bare. Lately it’s been raining here in Vermont but it doesn’t really matter. I’m inside, my duvet is warm and the book I’m reading is wonderful. And no matter how much work I have on my plate, I’ve learned to never sacrifice the part of the day that’s for me. It is essential to my being.
Sometimes my friends tell me the guys I go after all have the same ‘look’ but in reality they look nothing alike. Maybe it’s the sarcasm laced into their smiles, the way they hold themselves or speak in similar tones. And it occurred to me; that we’re all curators in that way. Picking out potential could-be’s and putting them up on a wall. Ready to show off and display to friends and family. These are my options, my maybes, my itneverreallyworkedbutjustlookatthatsmile. My gallery is limited, clever and handsome. [&I’m sorry for referring to you as an object.]