Fall came in haste that year. Whenever I close my eyes I can feel it again, it comes flashing through my body and soul like a Demon reaching out in perpetual despondency from a world beneath Hell; the feeling of being slowly but inescapably cornered off from life, feeling as had the sky itself converted the air into a compact mass of impenetrable pallid suffocation. It all happened so fast, and so totally without any warning. And so it struck hard. It was horrendous beyond imagination, my friend: from out of nowhere a tempest was rising in rage and despair, wailing, howling bitter and fierce. It ripped the leaves off the trees like wanted it to strip them of every fragile hope they tried to hold on to in a coat of leaves turned autumn-coloured without anyone noticing, or realizing it was this time of year already. And now, as they whirled away to meet their death, they let that warm light shine on through in a breathtaking intensity.
The sky loomed low overhead, and the world turned cold as if touched by the hand of Death. Yes, fall came in haste that year. And it brought with it a soul nightfall. It hit me as hastily and unsuspectingly as the wind hit the naive trees standing outside my window. When I look back at it now, in the rear-view mirror of life, it feels like it all happened aeons ago and yet it is so close in my mind, as were it still ongoing at the very centre of my brain. If I try to tell you about it, will you understand me? Will you understand what happened that unblessed, ghastly fall, when God Himself seemed to look the other way?