A long hot summer.

Arthur had chosen the upper most step, where the sun warmed our backs and wilted the lettuce of our sandwiches. And sitting very close behind him there, at the rocky bottom of one of Athens very abrupt endings, i felt uncomfortable, extremely conscious of the seclusion and intimacy of our perch and of the distinct possibility that he brought me here to broach again, as he mights say, a delicate subject. I decided to reiterate our position at some point during lunch; unfortunately, my position was that I was crazy about him. I wanted to be like Arthur Locomte, to drink, take, deny, dominate; and to hold aloft the enchanted flag of summertime.

Three times i have tried to leave, and three times I haven't succeeded.

There is something in the air these days. I feel relieved.

My mouth speaks faster than my thoughts some times, and my heart feels more than I thought could be tangible in the last hours. Right before the lights threw up from underneath the earth and from the mountains in the distance, a morning wind that blows and a soft light from a sun not yet visible but still felt. I missed the freedom of my carelessness. I missed my privacy. I miss that road at night, with its tree branches flowing over head, the lights out all around, and small hills that sweep below my feet like a smooth wave. I forgot to cry and I couldn't let myself get that sensitive. And now its all coming in ways that I would not have thought. I could swim in the sea at night, with the glow of plankton following my small frame, steal a boat under a full moon, walk the days barefoot to feel the blades of grass between my toes, the sound of the sprinkler clicking in a distance, the sound of tzitzikes and a screen door slamming. A frying pan in the kitchen, the feel of soft skin on my back, and a night asleep on a balcony. A rock against my window, and a friend waiting below to sell me his pain. A cigarette in the attic, and an exhale of love. If I could grab all these things and put them in one place I would keep them all mixed up and jumbled. I would not try and sort them out. I would not try and decide which came first. I would try and feel what has been around us and try and grab the good things in this tiny space of time I am occupying. Hold them close to my chest and breath them in. With all of its pain comes a feeling of relief. And a strength. And a drive.

"if I never loved, I never would have cried." - S&G