At the moment, the weather is almost like in England in summertime: cool, windy, some rain showers. The dust is gone from the air and replaced by the fresh smell of drizzle and wet leaves and water on the pavement. Still, we miss the intense sunshine of summer and the great burst of green leaves, flowers, and buzzing insects. Summer is about life beginning anew, just as it halts in fall and winter. The smell of roses, cold beer, and freshly mowed lawns. The pleasure of summer rain contrast winter water; frozen and hard and unpleasant, in summer refreshing and cooling. Sunshine like powdered gold over the grassy hills, light everywhere and always, in patches and splashes or simply in one, big, blinding chunk. And in those long dusks of summer, we walk urban streets, with the smell of concrete that is hot to the touch, plagued by the onset of early thirst. the air full of expectation, waiting for things to happen. Everything good, everything magical happens in the summer. Those months are full of memories from childhood and associations of innocence. There’s nothing more beautiful than falling in love in the summer, when laziness takes over and time is wasted away on terraces, drinking black coffee or exotic drinks until the sun sets, or even far beyond if the circumstances allow us to do so. Stars that litter the night sky; haven’t we looked up at all during the winter? We wander home and stumble into beds too hot to hold us long. And when we go on vacation, like snakes we shed our home skin, thinking we can be a new person.
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Originally posted 2018-02-18 02:02:42.