july

everything smells like hot pavement, perfume and somebody leaving for the sea. #

July has started and Milano has become ridiculous. Work is strange because everybody comes in talking about holidays. Sardegna, Liguria, Spain, wherever, and every conversation eventually becomes `”when are you leaving?”` as though remaining in the city during summer is a medical condition. I keep hearing suitcase stories, beach stories, hotel stories, and people explaining exactly how much colour they want before arriving at a beach where they will presumably become more tanned anyway.

I am also shopping as though summer is a completely new phenomenon nobody warned me about. White trousers. Another pink top. Sandals. Tiny bag. Sunglasses. I looked at everything on my bed tonight and thought, why do I own so many things designed to hold almost nothing? My smallest handbag can fit gloss, money, keys and perhaps one moral principle.

Yuri says that’s enough.

He doesn’t understand handbags.

Remember me, Eclipse.