Sweet November outside. Last leaves have already fallen down from the trees. Strolling along the park in the morning I'm enjoying the last rays of the sun on my face. Whitish frost covers the grass and the ice has begun to constrain water. It seems that with the last flocks of birds my soul is flying away. Soon there will come the endless black nights and I will enter into the period of melancholy and screeching halt. Inaction, passivity and unwillingness to do or to change anything haunt me in the winter. So now, in a season that inspires me the most, I have to do the maximum! In plans there are articles, notes, long letters, and many other things that have long been waiting for me on the writing table. Autumn, don't leave me...
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