It is an autumn day, in the autumnal part of my life, as I walk along the blown leaves of November. Surely, I must walk slower now, for there is really nowhere to go, and there is no urgency to get there. I wish I had known this earlier in life and swam like a goldfish, rather than been maddened as a hound in a chase. I would have been leisurely, regal, and admired by emperors for my calmness and deep reflections. But, here is autumn, and there is still gold in the maple leaves that fly about me.
