Is it ever enough? Rush after rush after rush, feelings melting one into another, summer trees living their perfumed story in the cricket music evening. Can we stop from wanting it all, from ignoring the dreadful, social conventions? Can we stop this day to day insomnia from which we withdraw at night with a sense of relief and with the overwhelming joy of diving into ourselves? I could roam the streets for hours until my feet would ache, smoke out the mist of doubts into the dark blue sky, dance frantically a dervish like trance, forget my name, forget everything but now.
Roads stretching endlessly, driving through the silence, trees pass by, lights brightening my eyes from time to time, going somewhere and nowhere, because this is the power of summer, to remind you that you have it all now, that you can sit back and relax but in the same time feel the rush.
Oh, no baby, that rush doesn’t go away, it stays on and on, on the very surface of your skin. It travels through your body, sparkles on the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s made up of all the little delicious nudges and whims and yearnings of something unclear, stretching electrically through the body, short-circuiting reasonable thoughts.
Sweet, sweet summer