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think dizzily that I know exactly why Icarus flew so high: when you’ve spent too long in the dark, you’ll melt your own wings just to feel the sun on your skin.
It feels like the very end of June or the beginning of July, when you’ve lost track of time and it doesn’t matter because you have nowhere in particular to be, when summer stretches so luxuriantly on either side of you that you begin to doubt the existence of other seasons.
My absolute favorite time of year
