No other month of my incarceration bothered me so much as October. The leaves changing colors foreshadowing the change of season. The sky's shade of blue looking different from any other month. October has the feeling of a cello sonata, or a French horn; a mellowness bordering on the melancholic. That the month ended with my sentencing added to the feeling of loss and change. Ah, to have had one more moondance with you before all came to an end.
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