Through the fog, through the rain, through the mud. (Barbro Andersen)

Leather jacket - Object // Poncho - Thrifted // Dog - Chihuahua // Pencil skirt - Object // Rings - Tom Wood // Lipstick - IsaDora (54 - Plummy Plum) // Shoes - Bianco
The sun has set. Maybe for the whole season. Who knows. I'm wandering through drowning parks in one of my favorite knitted cardigans and brand new rain boots. Breathing icy air through my overly sensitive nose drills underneath my broken, black umbrella. Watching streams turn into tiny, mute glaciers filled with rotten earth and human waste. Stopping by that familiar tree just to look at the colors of its leaves. From pale yellow to oxblood and muddy brown. I'm watching nature's striptease unfold right before my eyes, on seasonal repeat. Ending up on an empty street surrounded by heavy, gray fog. Epileptic light is streaming out of barely lit windows, from every TV, from every home. An ear deafening silence. It's just another crippling autumn. I must resist the urge to hibernate. I'm not strong enough. I know I'm not. The fog, the rain, the mud, the snow. It's too much. It's just too fucking much.