On the corner, a kid was trying to eat his ice cream faster than it could melt. Vanilla down his wrist, onto his sneaker, then the sidewalk. The truck kept playing its little song over the traffic.
Viktoria had suggested a picnic. She’s Polish, lives in New York, and considered Wednesday a perfectly reasonable day to spend lying on the grass. I agreed.
Ninety degrees. The wine was evaporating. We blamed the heat and opened another.
In Central Park, clothes had become an inconvenience. Shirts unbuttoned. Skirts hitched higher. A man slept with his shirt neatly folded beneath his head, still wearing his office socks.
There were limits.
Hot grass, sunscreen, yesterday’s beer, white wine. A perfect day.
“The creases the blanket leaves on bare legs disappear before you get home.”
The cheese was sweating almost as much as we were. The ice bucket was just a bucket of water. Her dress clung to her skin, her hair to her neck. But somehow, Viktoria glowed. It was as if her skin were a prism.
Nothing survives the summer. Ice first. Then wine. The creases the blanket leaves on bare legs disappear before you get home.
The tans take longer. Summer lovers take longer to reply, then stop.
Everyone puts their clothes back on. Fall comes. You blink, and you’re pulling a scarf over your mouth.
What you wouldn’t give for that goddamn heat.
Photography and Words by Alexander Tarazona
Model: Wiktoria Gabrysiak
Alexander Tarazona also contributed to our sold out C-Heads print volume 38. The issue delves into the art of slowing down, celebrates the joy of crafting, invites you to feel the freedom from society’s temporal constraints, and captures the alluring sentiment that everything looks more beautiful under the sun.
A chance to revisit the full story: ♥ Digital issue — available here.
