If this month were to be described musically, it would be a mashup between Guns'n'Roses and X-Japan: Endless November Rain.
It is about relearning, once again, to discern the subtleties of the grayscale, where most of the time the world around fluctuates between 40% and 60% black.
It is also about appreciating the remaining—and rapidly vanishing—bits and pieces of color that won't reappear until Nature wakes up again in the spring.
It is the time when reflections are everywhere.
In the puddles, extending the world into a hall of mirrors.
And in your mind, grasping the meaning of the year gone by.
By now, some of that year is a fleeting memory, like those drying puddles beneath your feet covered with shed leaves.