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Summer began to grow weary; it's light drooped slowly from the sky as exhaustion began it's conquest over the sun's will to keep the world bright. The sun lingered on the horizon as long as it could, but hung heavily, like tired eyes. And it was in that very moment, when the sun and summer fought to stay awake, that the world seemed as if it were on fire. 

Moments when sleep greets reality are the moments in which we live the most, I think. Because what's real sometimes isn't very real at all-- but our dreams are real; they're as real as our fingers and our toes and our eyelashes. But dreams need reality to survive. And reality needs dreams to survive.

He held my hand in his as the wheeled-boards beneath us carried us briskly along the abandoned cement path. We clung to each other and we clung to the moment as long as we could before it vanished as quickly as the passing seasons.

Eventually, Autumn's crisp breeze came and put summer to sleep with a tender kiss. And all at once, the days already spent became so much more than the days left remaining.


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