Seven-Nineteen

 

The very same things I love about Spring are the very same things I adore about Summer. In the Spring of course, it's all about rebirth and everything takes on the colors of new. Fresh and clean and untouched. In the Summer however, everything that I love bears muted and quiet and soft tones. Aged, and brittle and clinging to life. 

I am not a Summer person by any means but the things I care most about it, are unique and exclusive to the longer and the heated days of July and August and cannot be seen or felt at any other time. They are few and brief in their last moments but that in itself is the reason for my adoration.

Much like the last moments of anything in this life, what is said and done and felt in those final moments, in my experience, are what is remembered.