Hometown Autumn Pursuit and Shadow Record

🍂No Autumn in Hometown｜A Farewell Unfinished Hidden in the Lens✨

The four seasons of my hometown have quietly lost a frame of autumn to the rings of growth. Those golden ginkgo leaves, fiery red maples, and the waves of rice in front of the old house have all become yellowed negatives in my memory. Now, the journey home always feels like an hourglass counting down, each step marking the rhythm of parting.

📸 Verses in the lens:

✔️ Winter trees are natural artworks, their branches like ink, sketching lonely silhouettes against the gray-white sky.

✔️ The old house’s window panes are frosted thinly, like tears of time, reflecting the shadow of a child chasing falling leaves.

✔️ The rice stubble on the field ridges pierces the cold wind, stubbornly holding onto the warmth of autumn, yet no longer waiting for a harvest.

💡 Ramblings:

Autumn in my hometown is hidden in every frame of the camera—it’s the wind sighing through empty rice fields, the cooking smoke dissolving into mist at dusk, the tone of a mother calling home at the village entrance. But when I raise the lens, I realize the one I most want to capture is myself, chasing autumn, unaware of what parting means.

👉No autumn in the hometown, but the lens remembers all the unspoken attachments for me. If you also have an autumn you can’t return to, why not use a camera to cut time into poetry. 📍To everyone on the way home, bidding farewell to autumn.

Post by William Radcliffe | Oct 23, 2025