My God, April! What are you doing to me? Making me hope, making me dream bigger than advisable, making me daydream like there’s nothing more important in life.
And then there was light. Blinding light, taking away any common sense and reason, making me fumble through my days, making a mockery of my focus on the immediate and palpable.
You must be confused, my dear April days. You’re acting like children of summer, but the calendar keeps reminding me there’s still a way to go until then. You’re presumptuous and I find that I quite like that. The smell of freshly cut grass and lilac on these unusually warm evenings is quite maddening, you know?
If May keeps this up, you two might be facing charges. For instigation: sudden romantic gestures being reported all over the city late at night, from long strolls in lush, green parks, to public displays of affection virtually anywhere that traffic allows it (park benches, street corners, in front of coffee shops, across candle lit tables on terraces).
Think of your reputation, April dearest!