English Summers by A.E. Cox There are days where my heart thinks of nothing but you and that isolated stretch of beach. How these crazy days would be much better spent with our feet in the sand, sipping margaritas and drowning in foolish laughter. We would write senseless poetry and speak our natural cynicism. So let us declare our stamping grounds those of England, repeat lazy summers until the end of the world. The insanity will somehow keep us sane. « BACK |