“One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy.”
― Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics
FIELD NOTES #6 The first hint of summer: a clear sky with a slight breeze (music blaring) wind-tossed skirts and slick, pale skin the sudden urge to dance strip bare and find the nearest body [somebody] (a chorus of careless splashing) bottles pressed against flesh, ever-present sweat— why go to work when the sun hasn’t set? 𑁍𑁍𑁍 They say, you can smell a bear coming, the scent of musty hide impossible to ignore. Like a wise-woman who can feel the rain before the storm [eventually] you learn to read the signs. But do ninety on the turnpike and the road becomes a blur: headlights or starlight? I can hardly tell the difference.