Autumnal – nothing to do with leaves. It is to do with a certain brownness at the edges of the day… Brown is creeping up on us, take my word for it… Russets and tangerine shades of old gold flushing the very outside edge of the senses… deep shining ochres, burnt umber and parchments of baked earth — reflecting on itself and through itself, filtering the light. At such times, perhaps, coincidentally, the leaves might fall, somewhere, by repute. Yesterday was blue, like smoke.
~ Tom Stoppard
Notes:
- Photo by elizabeth Herman: Cloudy autumn day 2015 (via Memory Landscape)
- Poem Source: Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead via Outstare the Stars
- Tom Stoppard bio
