Cotton Jones

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The Last Rays and Skeleton Shadows: Best Late Fall Records

These are the days of odd shapes and acute angles. It’s not summery bliss anymore, now it’s wonder and melancholy. We wear our knit sweaters and drink steaming beverages, watching the air form from our breath with mild curiosity. The air is musty and half bitter with the smell of damp leaves on the ground- everything glitters either from a soft frost or the waning light. Those warm sunny days are over, and whatever you wanted to make happen in...