One cold November, I resolved to kill the staircase spawn... ("Staircase Man" by Diane Doniol-Valcroze & Arthur K. Flam)

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.

Novembermemeliyin beni, My sweet November..
Hep Decemberdeyim waiting for you..

It is incredible what kind of mess I can make
with a nine-hour drive and an unanswered text.

Storytelling isn't an Escher staircase.

I could forgive you even your cruelty if it were not for your calm.