I will miss this, I really will.
Sitting outside on my deck writing, laptop warm against my thighs and notebook pressing into the crook of my elbow. My dog sits near me, chewing on a leaf or something (as he does) as a gentle breeze, barely able to even be called a breeze, touches my shoulder and the tips of the trees’ leaves. I can hear the crickets starting to chirp through my headphones– there’s was a heat stroke in the Bay Area this weekend and the last of it seems to be ebbing away now. The fog is finally starting to roll back in over the mountains to cool down the air, saving my breath.
What happens when your English teacher tells you to take out a pen and a piece of paper and write continuously for five minutes straight with absolutely no explanation of what to write about. Continue reading
There was a heat spell like no other that summer, and it left everyone to forget the way it felt to wear jackets and catch a breath of crisp, cold air in the middle of the afternoon. Continue reading
From the minute I set foot outside, my eyes are blinded by the harsh glare of the sun. I have no choice but to squint as I stagger forward, though I am able to fully open my eyes once more after they adjust. Continue reading