Ghosts are everywhere.
They dwell in cabinets and old shoes and shrubberies, waiting to sneak up on you when you least expect them.
They hide in the scent of crisp leaves on windy days. They curl around your feet and pull you back into autumns past with unanticipated force.
They do not wait for you to be prepared.
You might assume they are relegated to haunted places. Cemeteries and abandoned houses and foggy moonlit depths of night.
But ghosts are not afraid of the sun. They are everywhere, everytime.
And there is no avoiding them.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.