October 15, 2025
October has that particular texture to it -- the air itself is nostalgic. The light tilts, warm and slanted, and you start feeling things you can't quite name.Memories that never actually happened. The time when time feels visible, you can *see* it slipping past, in a way leaves dry and fall without fanfare.
Mono no aware, as the Japanese call it: the gentle sadness that comes from realizing that beauty is indeed, transient.
That quiet, aching appreciation for things precisely because they fade. Cherry blossoms are beautiful because they fall. The poignancy is the proof of life. One can't feel that depth unless, unless you're alive to impermanence.
Beautiful, because it reminds you that nothing stays.
October is beautiful.
A quiet subtraction -- the world keeps rearranging itself while you're trying to make sense of your own coordinates.
The awareness that everything moves, ends, transforms.
Hits hard, as the year closes.
Melancholia, sweet sorrow.
The author completed yet another year in this world, as of today.
The word of this year is impermanence.