PAUL CHRISTENSEN

I've been watching the last leaves fall away from the branches around my house. The wind last night was fierce and numbingly cold. It moved like a carving knife through the remaining remnants of summer, easing away the reluctant last memories we have of the warm and sunny past. Only the stoic brown towers remain, old guardians of the law. You can feel the inflexible joints of a terrifying authority as it towers over the house. What we thought was ours is no longer durable, bu