If November were a colour, it would be grey – the same grey as my own eyes. It is a month of quiet that is deafening in its silence.
In this month, I lost what I held dearest. The world turned grey, and my eyes mirrored the sky. Yet, a strange truth remains: I hold a love for this sorrowful month. It is the quiet witness to my deepest loss, and in its melancholic embrace, I feel a connection to what is gone. So, I love it. Not despite the pain, but because its very nature understands it.
17/11/2004
7/11/2025
