The summer had been chaotic - evenings spent surfing halfpipes under cantaloupe skies followed days of tireless local exploration.
Vocational searches of abandoned adventure playgrounds and dilapidated desertions begat immeasurable rewards. One day’s work could yield a harvest to last them the entire canicular calendar - a truth born when 1, 2 and 3 unearthed four-legged and 5 from their rabid residential rubble.
Countless sentimentalities followed, bearing an abyssal weight only catchable by the old camera from the old woman’s old basement.
Here stood the class of southerly summer - shirt numbers now facing the bold brilliance gilded in the past.