Indira Ganesan, Summer in Sepia, 2013

Overcast skies that break into sun when the four o’clocks open.  A blue-mooned month. Night, and the streets are less crowded, but still lively, as the men laugh loudly, in a place they can call their own, and wed whom they want. Marriages on the beach; shark sightings, sail boats rides at sunset.  Treasures of summer, a season that included two recent fatalities.  One, a woman I had just met mid-summer at a reading, a librarian who loved books and writers.  Mist-filled mornings and night,with fog so thick it lashes onto the glass. Summer calls, hurry, hurry, I am here momentarily, so seize me quick.