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mardi 1 juillet 2014


Coming home, letting the backpack slip to the ground near the desk. Sliding open the window, letting out the smell of stale ashes. Propping the laptop open, and putting on some music. Opening a beer, lighting a smoke, and leaning back into a chair as the savory smell of barbecue meat wafts up from the park. It's Summer.
The sun shines long into the evening, keeping everything warm and full of light. Children’s' shrieks can be heard late into the night, accompanied by the adults' low voices. Mosquitos are drawn to turned-on lamps like moths to the flame, sniffing out the telltale CO2 that betrays our presence. Bees and butterflies criss-cross through the fragrant air, and grass turns yellow under the relentless heat. Pools dry up, and streams are reduced to a trickle as the moisture gets sucked up into the air. The hot, dry air that hurts your eyes and cracks your lips. It's Summer.
The girls walk down the street scarcely dressed, while men find ever new ways to show the muscles they have been working on all winter. Hormones are in the air, and skin is to be seen everywhere. Love and lust mix and mingle, make your senses tingle as you drink and dance. In search of romance.
Dawn breaks as you open the front door, the air cool and soothing for your throbbing head. The streetlamps go off as you walk to the station, form nowhere to nowhere,. Killing the time until Autumn comes again. It is Summer.

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