

Autumn is in the soul of man. ππJust like spring, summer, any season, any weather. And that's why someone will offer his hands to the same rain with joy and a premonition of purification, and another will frown heavily, brush away his sadness in a random stream and pull his cloak tighter. The weather is in us, and the rain. it just comes. Devoid of shades of good and evil, joy and sadness, the rain walks through our souls.π