October... all over. October... all over. Oh yeah, I remember the rhyme now:
June, too soon
July, stand by
August, it must
October, all over
We learnt it to predict hurricanes half a hemisphere away, while the dog-eared sign on the wall flapped in the wind: "It's not the longitude, nor the latitude, but the attitude".
We were not allowed to close the window or put our coats on. Or even breathe. But I still managed to sleep between cloud formations.
The rest of my memory is foggy.
Is it that time already?
Pardon me for being so quick.