Is it possible that the cold of late autumn touches some of us deeper than our bones, deep into our very soul where instinct demands we must move South to warmer climes? Migrate or die! Migrate or die! Most of human history existed before agriculture, before we could store our winter harvests, guarded by our cats from rodents.
Perhaps seasonal affective disorder is partly the result of not taking actions our murky instincts expect us to take if we ever hope to see the spring.
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