summer

New York is strange in the summer. Life goes on as usual but it__ not, it__ like everyone is just pretending, as if everyone has been cast as the star in a movie about their life, so they__e one step removed from it. And then in September it all gets normal again.

In August, an inescapable blanket of heat settled over Paducah, the last gasping breath of summer roaring its weight out over the populace.

With each mile we put behind us, I felt the air grow lighter in my lungs. It was as if the city had been one large pressure cooker, simmering in its own juices. With the top down on the coupe and a stalwart, man-made breeze blowing steadily in my face, I tallied the city's many summertime brutalities: the heat that radiated from the gray asphalt and made the air dance in wavy shimmers; the stagnant ponds in Central Park that turned a milky, putrid, almost phosphorescent green and incubated countless mosquitoes; the blasts of hot dirty air that breathed upward from every subway grate; oh, and how the loud noises pouring from construction sites even somehow seemed to further agitate and heat the air!

circle back, you're nearly through.The next one, then just one more clue. Summer's coming, dark and drear,Soon those tourists will appear.In the word hoard you will findBooks with numbers on the spines.A 2 a 9 a 2 again-Not too easy for Athena's friend.

Autumn is leaving its mellowness behind for its spiky, rotted stage. Don't remember summer even saying goodbye.

Rejoice as summer should...chase away sorrows by living.

We tend to take summer's vitality for granted, when in actuality it is just one prolonged drought, or disease, away from decimation.

Traigh came to help her dismount, a broad smile making creases around his eyes. __ fear ye missed our summer, Joie._ Her brow drew in with confusion. __ut it is summer, Traigh,_ she told him. __ye, it might well be summer elsewhere in the world, but here, it only last three days. We had our summer last week.

There had once been a time when I'd dreaded the end of summer, had prayed it would hold out for as long as possible. Now the thought of endless warmth and sun made me . . . bored. Restless.

We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost.

We came out on Coldra Crescent, one of those warm air nights, stars spitting in the sky like firebugs stuck on a big black velvet rump. A summer night to make anybody with standard glands feel that tidy homes, spring mattresses, four guaranteed meals per day, and legalised religion were all criminal to human development.

you're the fly on the wall hearing all, seeing allears of a wall hearing all the secretsperhaps you're the vines creeping over the old abandoned mansion wallsdusty, soulless and deadbringing a certain curious life to rubbleand I think you're the jewel-eyed geckosneaking around the warm summer wallsbetween jasmine and olive branchessticky pad toes, clinging to the wallspeeking in at lonely summer spicy love-makingthrough silk curtains from the bright orientbreathing in incense and tasting decadenceclimbing the sharply barbed wallsthe smooth cemented white-washed wallsbecause walls breathe too

Somewhere I read that human beings are the only creatures to spend the present driving themselves crazy about the future.

She loves swimming,_ said Ellen, who I knew had been a competitive swimmer in college. Ellen looked in the rearview mirror at Kara.__on__ you Kara?_ asked Ellen.There was no response. __ didn__ start until I was three,_ said Ellen. __he__ got a two year start on me.

The end-of-summer winds make people restless.

SUMMER DEEP""Summer deep is in the hills again His lady is a lioness Winds of birds blow through the fields again Invaders from the true worlds A coat of grapes is on my back again I ride upon my zebra Pterodactyl beak hat on my brow The truth is like a stranger Be like you could All my friends say.

Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.

Summer-induced stupidity.That was the diagnosis...