27 August 2007 Chatwin Place
Dearest Summer,
It is nearing the time we must part and say our farewells. I am at the point of tears as I write this letter to you, my darling friend. In an attempt to immortalise our time together, this letter will be written with such detail that you and I can forever hold our time together forever in our hearts.
When the last school bell rung its cries because it could no longer keep us apart that fine day in June, the litres of sweat plopping upon the ground from profusely persperating adolescents, I saw you awaiting me, and we held each other in our arms. Oh, such bliss! I shall never forget the expression painted upon your face when we at last had each other in the other’s embrace. You smiled radiantly at me; the heat of your smile generated a millilitre of perspiration on my skin.
When I sat beneath the apple tree in the yard, our time spent perusing that delicately written book on the purported causes of the Great War, which in all honesty was not entirely great after all. How you slept so soundly after hours of perusal and discussion on such a subject you deemed mundane! Remember, remember, the coming of September, was what you, rather brutally, I’m afraid, told me to remind me of the weight with which the teachers at school place upon reading this very important text on the history of the Great War. In spite of the fact that I am still not entirely finished with said book, I thank you, dear friend, for reminding me of what is to come.
When we feigned sleep to acquire the latest gem that is only the most anticipated final novel ever of the most popular and commercialised book series ever in the course of human history so far, the endless crowds of fanatics barricading our way towards the registers to purchase said most anticipated final ever of the most popular and commercialised book series ever! Into that night, we remained ever lacking in sleep because the adventures in the most anticipated final novel ever of the most popular and commercialised book series ever was much too exciting to put down.
When I slept beneath your grasp, the months of deprivation made up for by 12-hour lumber and 12-hour forays into lethargy. Those dreams that I remember lucidly: flying across some unknown part of the country, diving into the depths of the frightful sea, running from an imaginary enemy as a spy. How shall those adventures with you escape my memory? And who knew that sleeping could cause such exhaustion? Ah well, more exhausted shall I be when once again, I will have to sacrifice my terribly precious rest at night for the tasks at hand!
When that storm plundered my town and tore limbs and branches off trees, drowning the vicinity with floods of rainwater and broken twigs. That night brought us ever closer, the night of that storm was so dramatic. With no electrical power, it was as if civilisation and the world itself was experiencing a violent and dark apocalypse. Thunder roared behind the countless masses of rainclouds, and lightning struck just across the house. Good fortune came, however, and we were more careful in times of natural disaster.
I must conclude this letter now, for my unpredictable friend School is beckoning. Fare thee well, dear friend! Fare thee well, I hope to see you again in our annual meeting. I shall never forget our times together!
With love,
IB Student being very melodramatic about things like usual
