RealmNight

Painted by Fire The first time I meet you it's autumn. Do you remember? We tread upon a path along rows of aspen trees swaying in the ocean of wind. The leaves flutter in the same direction until they can't hold on any longer. By your side, the wind isn't cold anymore. In my hand, I hold this paintbrush. The same one you lend me on that day. Do you remember? Its ebony handle glistens. Its bristles are brand new. Its metal part reflects the drifting golden snowflakes – the falling aspen leaves. It's the day I start to paint that scene, the scene of the place we meet. Over and over we tread upon that path crushing the soft leaves at our feet.