at the end of the full circle

the fallen leaves crunch beneath my feet as i walk down the street. the parked cars on the sides are surrounded by a river of yellow, almost like gold dust, and the cold gusts of wind rock them silently. bare trees remind me of stick-figure drawings, their long and empty branches jutting out like thin arms. old houses lined up against the block, surrounding the neighborhood with their sense of history and time, each have a different story playing out inside. i can only see through the windows, where perhaps someone forgot to draw the curtain. it's almost like walking through an art gallery...here's a house where people just love to read since all you can see are wooden shelves lined with volumes and volumes of books...and there's another house where someone has decided to throw every single picture they ever took up on their wall...if there is a wall to begin with, it's kind of hard to tell with the plethora of framed memories. there's also the house that keeps changing their living room color...one week it's a sunny yellow, the next week it's a deep red, and another 2 weeks later it's a repulsive magenta. some of the houses have little garden gnomes, perhaps a bird bath, and maybe a small bicycle parked in the walkway. i can hear the sirens of the ambulence in the distant from the near-by hospital...but people go about their usual way undisturbed...it's a common phenomenon here, so i guess no one notices much. the sun playes a deceptive game in the cloudless sky, the wind taking the warmth away before it reaches your up-turned face. most people don't take leisurely walks at this time; they're all in a hurry to get some place warm before they get frostbite. i wonder how contruction workers survive in this weather, between frozen fingers and all the noise, i would just call it a day and go home. there's something in my reflection today as i glance at the shop windows...something altered. perhaps my sense of self-awareness, or my sense of significance. i cock my head to the side as i gaze at my face, the lines around my mouth and my eyes, the shape of my nose, the way my hair curls back from my forehead. the salesperson inside is staring back at me. i walk away as the last yellow leaf sways its way down to the ground.