I remember watching Season of the Witch when I was a kid, the jingle playing on old TVs, the masks glowing in the dark,
and that countdown that felt endless, like Halloween could last forever.

Back then, it all felt real,  mysterious, almost magical in a way only a child could believe.
And maybe that’s why, after all these years, I still hum “Happy, happy Halloween…” every October.
Because part of me still tries to hold on to that feeling, to that small, fragile innocence that makes some things stay special.
Even when the world forgets how to believe.