Autumn Moon

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One could say that this next few days are well-earned rests, but not when it meddles with the financial aspect of it. Would have been apropos to assume that the holidays were meant for making cash, not celebrations. It is the best and only time not to be burnt out by work. Alas the tragedy of working under, not over, a certain playing field requires no qualms in participation. You get a pat in the back and a bottle of wine and go home and feel proud of it. My days in Alanya are sure to be a spectacle, if only I can stomach the anticipation. There is nothing I would not do to get to this point, and now I am almost there, albeit mildly infuriated by the anticlimax of it all. Those days are over. This was the cause indeed, and I must need fortify myself for future endeavours associated with it. This will be my salvation, not a pity fuck, where words are drawn and sins are forgiven and making space for new ones as we go, as we march forward to the reality of where we currently are, that not even the world can succeed, wherein it is so meaningless against time and space that it practically means nothing. I am no longer an autumn moon. I am the night.

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