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The ground beneath his feet was like green velvet..velvet or something else. It was spread across the ground. It was green like the yellow shoots that grow up on the tree.

If Gods do exist, this meadow was their hideaway. That might seem a bit ironic, as most of the autumn leaves are hellhound-red in colour. The rest are scorched-orange and a pure, molten-gold. One by one, they drop to the ground, leaving the trees bare and skeleton-thin.

How could this be paradise, you might ask, never mind the playground of the Gods? Ah, but reader, you have not visited this meadow at the start of autumn as he have done. There you might see a bruised-blue and sea-silver sky chasing the grass into shadow at the coming of the dusk. You may also have been lucky enough to see a mackerel sky, grape-green and salmon-silver, with lances of sunlight spearing the ground in places.