Summer 2011

Though we're still spending evenings in Varna beach bars, pampering ourselves with summer cocktails and summer talks, it is more than evident -- the season's over. What's left is to enjoy the sweet tiredness from the endless nights and the memories embossed in our half-sober-half-high minds.
.
My summer-oriented existence included, among pleiades of things, 51 days on the beach, totally messed up people who gave me zillions of reasons to feel better for my own mess, nuevos amigos, buddies and wingmen, rafting trips on a river of single malt, e-mail addresses on napkins, windsurfing with dolphins, Mayrag retreat, kissing frogs that never metamorphosed into princesses, sunrise wet of naive tears, mamihlapinatapais, lazy weekends and even lazier Mondays, repeated mode of topsy-turvy wtf-ness and tuxedo nights, which we deliberately did not attend.
.
Now, when the sunlight fizzles out, leaving only vibrant shades of magenta and the sun is not warmer than a dime coin, we all wear all shirts and the sneakers are deep into the dusty corner of the closet.
.
The only thing that autumn will change: I will have to buy a dry suit. Cause summer is just a season. Real things remain.