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17/04/25 - 12:16 PM

I’ve never cared for summer—too warm, too close, the air thick with dust and the weight of heat. It always felt like a season meant to be endured. But this morning, something shifted. As I sat beside my father in his car on the road to college, I looked up.

The sky stretched overhead in a brilliant, aching blue. Along the roadside, the poinciana trees bled scarlet blossoms into the light, their petals trembling in the hush of dawn. The sunlight spilled across my face—not scorching, but soft, like a memory I hadn’t lived yet.

And then, as Chasing Cars played quietly in my ears, a strange stillness bloomed inside me. Not the absence of discomfort, but its transformation. The heat didn’t matter. The stickiness didn’t matter. There was something unbearably beautiful in that moment, something so fleeting it ached.

Is this why people fall in love with summer?

Not for the heat—but for fleeting moments like this, golden and weightless, where everything feels like it's glowing from the inside out.

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bloom.

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a reminder

all pictures posted here are my own, please ask before using them and give credit.

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inspired by - portrait by bang yongguk

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inspired by - portrait by bang yongguk

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