memoir

‘The summer of 2012/2013 also happened to be the summer that they frolicked at night, nearly nude, drunk in the secluded beaches and again in the rooftop pools, like that time after midnight/ early morn of the first day of the new year, when a young damsel popped open a bottle of champagne and sprayed the pool-revelers with the golden bubbles and they showered in the promise of all that was to come.’

– Extract from a chapter of our collective future memoirs/pretending I’m F.Scott Fitzgerald.

beach

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