Summer used to be a very active time during my childhood years. Playing on tree houses, swimming in the neighborhood's pools, catching small animals or picking flowers. It didn't change that much during teenage years. Going to the beach, tanning, going to parties, meeting new people....
It was always my favorite season. That sense of endless peace, the rush of furtive encounters under a starlight sky, the fresh fruit and the smell of coconut oil on the sand. I thought it was truly a blessed time of the year.

I am not sure if this is a unique feeling to me as an individual, but it seemed that summer was special to my circle of friends as well. The new boyfriend, the part time job, swimming under the stars and getting drunk on the shore with sangria and other "poisonous" drinks.

Recently, summer became the worst season ever...maybe because I moved into a country that has a terrible summer weather, maybe because I grew up, or maybe because my circle of friends grew up...is it only me or the thought of summer as a youthful season ends with adulthood?

These days summer represents sacrifices such as enduring a crowded train with people sweating profusely around me, enduring fowl smells everywhere, enduring the fact that there are no parties to go to or that there is no time to go to them...honestly I just feel like doing nothing most of the time. I feel as inertia is creeping over me and every little thing takes an increasingly big amount of effort from my part.

I wonder if it is really true that you age according to the seasons and my sweet summer season has gone...laziness is a terrible feeling but most of all I hate having lost the hope that summer brought to me. Sometimes I feel that hope is still here when some flowers bloom at night in this country. It is one of the little things that is still connected with that sense of freedom, restlessness and endless nights.
The dream of a summer night.

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