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Summer

The sun has me on fire, fire, fire. I can't get enough of its warmth. When I die I want to go somewhere where I can just burn all the time. Awesome.

Each of my summers is dedicated. I try to name them at the beginning of the summer, but I can't really know till its end. Something about the long days, the warmth, the heat, becomes a conflagration of creativity burning in my heart.

I am living in The Siren, I feel like. I'm on fire and searching like Lilith for myself. I feel so alive, so desirous of sensation.

I have been reading about the Pre-Raphaelites. Jane Burden. I want to see her in person. I want to dream her alive. I want to see the woman, not Rossetti's pictures, but the woman in the photographs.

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