“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside. Summer, dropping so easily a delicious everything upon your skin and lips. Like a never-ending kiss—taunting, deep, and luscious. The sun. The heat. The thousand echoes of a timelessness before time, when every day seems longer than the next and no day seems likely to ever truly end. Summer.” Stiu – inca nu suntem in iunie, inca nu a inceput vara. Dar este aici; o simtiti, nu-i asa? Diminetile sunt perfecte,