![I Believe… [Too Much Absence]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1730684696431-9LG56F84KEH4VEPSQ13U/IMG_2287+2.JPG)
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 20, 2020
Fall is always in such a rush to get here. Spring refuses to leave. Summer is a fair-weather friend, and winter is a drunken old bastard with an axe to grind.
...that some absence makes the heart grow fonder; too much absence makes the heart forget.
Fall is always in such a rush to get here. Spring refuses to leave. Summer is a fair-weather friend, and winter is a drunken old bastard with an axe to grind.