Dear Summer 2014,
I feel a lack of understanding flare against the whole sunny afternoon. The horizon still refuses to bend when a question isn’t answered, though obviously, there’s no harm in asking everyday, everynight with light interest. I think about lovers crossing countries and continents on boats and trains just to spend a few months together. I find myself thinking it might be good to travel somewhere just to stand in front of a particular artifact, or someplace like Venice that some people say will soon be gone, gone, gone. It’s nice to dream about the future, though it feels a lot like I am talking backwards through daydreams. I’m losing a rock paper scissors game with the long season and I sincerely wish I understood the strange wars of that summer feeling.
love and refrains,
elizabeth
2014 summer playist
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