A summer that never ends is hell. Nothing could be worse than being hot and sticky and surrounded by people who vaguely hate you forever. A wet timeless nightmare of cloudy light.
Your eyes meet theirs and flowers bloom in your stomach, purple petals and black fruits like atropa belladonna. Your eyes leave theirs, and you think: That’s not good.
Venus reaches out to us. She has eyes to fly with and wings to see. As terrible as an angel, be afraid. That wing to see the truth and that eye to lay it bare.