The summer of all returns

16 August 2018 text and photos Vera Gotseva
As I write this, I look at the sea. My laptop is stands on an old wooden table covered with faded peasant cover with those so well-known motifs of flowers and memories. Beyond the tree and the metal is the infinite blue, stretching the horizon. I don't know what day it is, which date. These serene sea days can happen now, and maybe they're in the past. Maybe I will write this text tomorrow. Time does not really matter at all, where the sea rests not only on the horizon but also in my soul.


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