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Summer is supposed to be spent by the sea,

in the Scottish highlands,
in Cornwall,
in Donegall.

Salted hair and sandy foot.
I am sleepily sat in the back of the car,
looking out the window, eyes a glaze,
being warmed by the sun.

Around each corner, there is a little house,
wanting to be inhabited, waiting to be drawn.

The adventure has just begun.