November Fragment

November is absolute.
Daylight is seen mostly out o the window at work. By the time I leave, night has fallen.
These are not the soft, romantic days of October, nor the summer-touched glades of September.
November begins winter.
First of the factory months.
All orange and black. When I go for evening walks now these are the only colours I see. An autumnal monochromatic vortex.
Stars up in the sky seem cold, and the window in the window frame rattles at night.
Night never seems long enough, and as the mornings darken again, it becomes increasingly difficult to pull myself out of bed.
I avoid the sea like a superstition.