Oktoberfest

Unlike September, October does not err on the side of caution when you want it to. Numbering the days almost seems pointless at this point, and if we lose count it does not count, so maybe letting them slip and slide makes it easier. As things come to a close, we speak of the hypothetical - funny, when the certainty of endings is what leaves us with "ifs". We may stand under lanterns that offer brief respite, but the déjà vu of the moment hits us to confirm that no one outlasts the "lasts". You whinge at the sound of curtains being drawn, but finality never shares your sentiments and soon it feels like light must be dug from crevices of consciousness - hard to do, even with the tint of all the things you held and helped.

In Germany they sing a song, "Ein Prosit der Gemütlichkeit", which translates into "a toast to good times." We could do without all that Bavarian booze, but all the same, let us lock arms and cheer: "Here's to, here's to. I am better for having met you."

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"We're circles, we're circles you see / We go 'round 'round the sun / In and out like the sea / I'll circle round you / You will circle round me..."