Today's newsletter has been curated by Ishita Singh, here's her author's note:

The air is getting crisp, and the leaves are starting to metamorphosize into the shades of sunset.

Around this time, my inner Lorelai Gilmore awakens, not for snow, but for autumn, and I am caught saying ‘I can smell it in the air’ way too often.Among other things, it is safe to say that 2020 is especially cursed because I missed out on the opportunity to buy fall candles during the Bath & Body Works clearance sale, just kidding. A cozy corner, leather bound books, vanilla-scented candles, a yellow-lit lamp and a cup of warm coffee, we’ve not exhausted all the ways to salvage 2020, in vain, just yet.

As I reminisce the nostalgia of an autumn (that I have never lived through), these artworks, I hope, would be your window in a corner, looking out into the most picturesque New England autumn. So, grab your mug of coffee (or mulled wine) and dare to cheer out loud: “(may it be) the most wonderful time of the year”, even if it’s 2020.

Don’t you imagine the leaves dream now

how comfortable it will be to touch

the earth instead of the

nothingness of the air and the endless

freshets of wind?

— Song For Autumn,
Mary Oliver

Love, with little hands,

Comes and touches you

With a thousand memories,

And asks you

Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

—Under The Harvest Moon,
Carl Sandburg

“Some days in late August at home are like this,

the air is thin and eager like this,

with something in it sad

and nostalgic and familiar.”

— William Faulkner