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I'm craving a copy of the song "Vindications" by Dashboard Confessional. My Google-Fu is failing me, and the radio is playing "Save me" by Simple Plan over and over which I hate, but its intro sounds exactly like the above song and it's driving me nuts. A plea for my sanity?
for summer. I can taste it on my tongue, feel it tingling just under the pores of my skin. It's still cool enough for a long sleeved-shirt and jeans, but the front door is open and the moon was full and a luminous white in a pale purple sky this evening. The warmth, that hint of sweat, was tantalising.
I'm craving the hot evenings of open windows and open everything; playing 'porch music' loud enough to spill out of the house, spill out with the light and life, is good and worthy in the heat. Dancing in light cotton dresses is mandatory, sweat beading and slip-sliding down your back, making the hair cling to the back of your neck.
I'm craving the hot nights that demand wakefulness, cool showers before bed and sheets first tangled around legs, then kicked off entirely. Sash windows half-open, hoping for a breeze but bringing in the night too: cars whispering past and the crickets and the boo-book owls.
I'm craving the warm dawns that creep up on you from behind a sleepless night. Quiet activity is permissible here; the creaking of the screen door to go out and admire the rising day, the whirring of the laptop as the sun lights the room around it and your tapping fingers.
The heat rises past bearing-point and the world outside the humming air-conditioners becomes sluggish, shimmery, unreal. On-foot expeditions outside the safety of humming air-conditioners require bottles of frozen water to ensure safe return. From midday only the most fool-hardy (or most expensively air-conditioned) are venturing outside.
Then the afternoon breeze sweeps in, whispering to the trees and being welcomed in through opened doors and windows. Gradually, the light softens and goldens, and after sunset the light dims to a pale purple sky and the moon rises, a full and luminous white.
I'm craving the hot evenings of open windows and open everything; playing 'porch music' loud enough to spill out of the house, spill out with the light and life, is good and worthy in the heat. Dancing in light cotton dresses is mandatory, sweat beading and slip-sliding down your back, making the hair cling to the back of your neck.
I'm craving the hot nights that demand wakefulness, cool showers before bed and sheets first tangled around legs, then kicked off entirely. Sash windows half-open, hoping for a breeze but bringing in the night too: cars whispering past and the crickets and the boo-book owls.
I'm craving the warm dawns that creep up on you from behind a sleepless night. Quiet activity is permissible here; the creaking of the screen door to go out and admire the rising day, the whirring of the laptop as the sun lights the room around it and your tapping fingers.
The heat rises past bearing-point and the world outside the humming air-conditioners becomes sluggish, shimmery, unreal. On-foot expeditions outside the safety of humming air-conditioners require bottles of frozen water to ensure safe return. From midday only the most fool-hardy (or most expensively air-conditioned) are venturing outside.
Then the afternoon breeze sweeps in, whispering to the trees and being welcomed in through opened doors and windows. Gradually, the light softens and goldens, and after sunset the light dims to a pale purple sky and the moon rises, a full and luminous white.
.