Another month gone by. Tomorrow, everyone will rip off the August of their calendar like it had never been there.

August to me is a conglomerate of the following expressions or words:

beach – salt on your skin – smells of suntan lotion – switching on the air con – wearing flipflops and no other shoes – drinking a lot – balmy nights – too many tourists cruising around – the 3 trays of icecubes in the freezer and still not being enough – listening to tracks on the radio cos you left the cds upstairs – reading a lot of rubbish – being somewhat distracted – having a cold shower – loving menthol in bodylotion – being lazy like everyone else

When I thought writing was just a hobby, life was a little easier. I must admit that. Now that I started to take things more seriously and try to be tidy, try to be focussed, no that I started and try to do my best, I sometimes catch myself cursing my own wish for perfection.

To be honest, I have no clue whatsoever when I will be ready with all of it. Ready writing it, re-writing stuff, ready revising it and ready to send it to somebody else so they can read it … and maybe crush my innermost hope that they will find it cool. But I hope it will be worth the trouble. I sometimes think that my mind does not work as well when it is hot outside. So, better days should come now.

Hope is the last thing we ever lose.