Impatience

What do you want most in the World? To touch, to feel? Is it that sensation of falling, so hard that the pain of it matches up with the pleasure? How being so hurt inside can smart, and then make you smile? There is nothing like it, and then to bite your own lip to be sure that it is real. I'm speaking of Summer and what fresh pleasures it can bring; the scent of lavender, your mother's perfume, a pile of laundry left in the Sun, a quarter of an apple. Summer is a season for happiness and....relaxation. But I am on the edge of a chasm. I have worked for two years for my GCSE's, I want my results, I want the certainty of a place at the sixth form at which I applied. I will have to wait. A Summer of waiting. I will be waiting for the Musters and the trees and candles.

Have you ever been around a secluded campsite after dark? It comes alive with the sleeping bodies and the wood smoke, a knotted branch swaying in the wind to a rhythm. It is best when the witching hour dawns. The World is a savage place again, reclaimed by the wildnerness.