Sweet juice running through my veins, making me want to touch the flowers and speak with the bees.
The strange longing to be outside with everyone, by yourself.
The feeling I have when someone invites me and I kindly decline. Only to turn up in the late hours.
The pleasure of watching a meadow without actually being burnt in the sun. Instead, being blown by the wind.
Having sunglasses on without any necessity to do so.
Waving to a stranger.
These sentences get shorter but the portrait is painted. It’s the height of summer. Find your moment. Frolick around yourself, with others, frolick to represent the state of frolickenment. This is not a word but if you haven’t noticed the ridiculous nature of my state, your loss.
Ba-bye.