Transitions, trans-i-tions, tran-si-tions.
The autumn reality, like cheese, is threaded with these ghostly passages, shadowy crossroads, secret paths, strange stairways, and unexpected doors.
Like Alice, they make you change—sometimes growing to the sky, sometimes humbling and shrinking down.
Rabbit holes you fall into, not because you want to, but simply because the time has come. The time of transition.

I love this strange time.
When the cool air trembles with constant ghostly movement.
When joy is laced with a sharp bitterness, the spice of dying leaves. And the rain, with its mirror-like veil, opens doors to incredible layers.
When the sun itself hides behind a misty veil, retreating into other worlds. And the earth hums with tension, inviting you down, deep into the very essence of life.
When change becomes the meaning, and meaning becomes the game.

© Elena Shuwany