Summer

I was told to write about summer. And as I sit in my garden with the sun burning itself on to my back, staring at a blank page, I realise summer is a feeling, a concept. Something that can be shapeshifted into whatever we want it to be. The light at the end of the tunnel, the days we yearn for during the long hours of cramming our studies nights on end or summer can be the dreaded moments that we pray never visits us again.

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