“The sky was low, all muted indigos and greys and sun-gilded cloud edges. The wind rustled the fallen leaves and made my cheeks prickle. It was the best kind of autumn walk: stormy and solitary and secluded.”
“The sky was low, all muted indigos and greys and sun-gilded cloud edges. The wind rustled the fallen leaves and made my cheeks prickle. It was the best kind of autumn walk: stormy and solitary and secluded.”
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