Summer

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summer

Here in London it’s so hot. The sunshine seems to burn anything it touches, giving a golden layer of color to the gray asphalt.

People keep rushing around, red and sweaty, in a sort of slow motion: not even the most efficient mechanism can resist, not the rush, the anxiety of punctuality.

The air is still and heavy of smog and complaints on the high temperature, somewhere women walk making their skirts fluttering.

Roads are noisier as people get nervous very easily: it’s like someone is cooking their disappointments on a slow fire, blending unexpected ingredients and special effects.

Children are happy, they enjoy the moment speeding with their bicycles, trying to catch as many adventures as possible.

They don’t know, or maybe they know it all.

Summer has its ways to unveil what we usually don’t see, it makes everything unbearably obvious.

Summer makes fun of manners and make up, it dries us as the sun does with the puddles, leaving behind what we were used to hide:  mud, shit, an hear tie lost by a baby girl.

Summer shows us to the rest of the universe, it laughs when we try to recompose ourselves and act as nothing has happened. We cannot be those wonderful liars anymore. We cannot smile and stab, compete honestly and say our reasons are the fairest of them all. Not so easily.

Summer is democratic and equal with everyone: it makes glow what is supposed to glow and it makes dust of what is supposed to perish. There is no middle way though, no discounts and complaint department.

If you are ready for love, Summer will stretch your soul to the edge until it overflows, sucking all your resistance away.

It will lead you to that far coast, where the sea, bluer than the sky, thunders a song more ancient than the people. You will run on that burning sand to dive into salvation, making as many splashes as possible.

You will see those streets crowded of people, walking curious around the shops, making noisy steps with their sandals on the lava stones. You will hear them shouting and laughing to call each other, gesticulating the universal language of friendship.

The sunset will surprise you: the sky will be wrapped in a clock of fire, of hundreds, thousands of shades. The air will start to be gentle and scented, bringing to you the melodies of that village preparing for the Patron Saint celebrations.

The lights of the cities will glow for you, and the sea, black as the night, will show you  their shivering reflections back.

The moon will watch over you, sleeping on the balcony because inside it’s too hot, and the butterflies, dancing around the light bulb. You will dream of the next day’s blessings, feeling lucky to be alive.

Otherwise all the misery of your life will be turned into an heavy scarf around your neck, while it’s so hot, the sunshine burns and people rush around in slow motion.

My name is Edvige and I am a writer for passion, I put my experience and feelings, as woman and human being, in everything I create. Keyword93 is about mindfulness and women, it is a place of healing and free expression: the aim is to promote emotional awareness and self love. This is meant be one, small, step to make the world better than we found it and to emancipate women once and for all.
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