Christopher W. Clark

It is always this time of year when I can feel something in me start to shift, slightly.  It’s an easing, a relaxing—it feels in many ways like the last few miles driven on a long road trip, when you know home is just around the corner.  As the air starts to cool and crispen, and the leaves flare into ever deeper fires of color, and nights linger a little longer than they did in the long summer months, when I start to see skulls and pumpkins and hollow-eyed latex masks fill the shelves of every store like strange totems—it’s…