She strolled through the pathway, listening to the rustling chorus of maple trees, which grew perfectly aligned on both sides of the uninterrupted road. A petite red leaf docked on her cupped palms, reminding her of how it would have been spinning if it had hit the water surface. But there is no oasis here, in this path. Standing in between such parallel, she reflected on how there is no correlation between existence and continuity, demise and limitation. But there is, she thought, limitation within continuity. At the indication of fall, the autumn wind ruffled the pages of her heart's album to a blank page.

Night was descending upon her pathway. The wind had released summer's warmth and began to consider winter's chill...but to her, as she raised her eyes to meet the sky, this is merely an early spring.