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.