Midsummer is coming with abandon, and the air is filled with lemon mixed with spirits, sour and sweet. Maybe the cactus next to the desk thinks so too, and everything in summer is green.
"A glass of grape pops, seven percent sugar."
"Thank you, speech!"
"Yeah."
"I like you"
"I love you"
I once met a gentle young man in midsummer. He was like the autumn wind pushing away the chirping of summer cicadas. He told me: "Be absolutely calm at all times."
Will the final time stop at that second?
Submission, wait for me
Disclaimer: The author is extremely Buddhist, updates depend on my mood.
Intention: Memories
