childhood

Nothing could have stopped them running out of the class, smiling and cheering the end of another school year. Was it the sense of freedom? Was it the sense of accomplishment? Maybe a mix of feelings.

15th of June, a particularly hot Thursday. The summer was unfolding in the distance, already smelling like watermelon, tasting like sea salt. They had three whole months to run and fall, play and lose, experience, learn and remember. That summer would be unlike the previous ones. They had already reached the big square of the town, revealing their big plans to each other: how many ice creams they would eat, how many swims they would enjoy, how they would mingle with the tourists. Childhood.

June.
July.
August.

“Oh, Summer! I wish you lasted more!”

Now, they look taller and stronger than before. They have a handfull of sand in their pockets and traces of salt on their clothes. The sun has darkened their skin and lightened their hair. The heritage of a summer on the island. They may not admit it, but they missed school and can’t wait to meet their friends on the first day. A circle closed, for a new one to begin. To shape these bodies, inside out, and get them ready for the next summer. As learnt in Maths, there are those inversely proportional quantities; the more the chalk shrinks, the richer minds and spirits become.

*(Rushed) mynd taken at Andros Island, Greece, August 2018*

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