Monday evening

.

Today is a warm day.
The kind of day that makes the bugs sing in the fields, as if they were crying out for water, to cool down.
The city, despite the heat, is quite eventful. People at the beach chilling out underneath a golden sun, or downtown cheering up for cyclists that arrive on the last leg of the tour of Portugal on a bicycle.
Yet, I relate with none of these groups of people.
Instead... I lay low wondering about the Monday evening, and how I wish mine could be.
Realizing that I would need to wish it very hard to break down my ever so present laziness.

What dreams may come in mid-august's evening. Shakespeare gave us a midsummer's dream.
Why can't I?


mamuts@gmail.com