On certain summer afternoons, when the sun is slanting just so, and the breeze is warm but not hot, there is a feeling of ripeness and ethereal wonder. Through eyes hazy with sun and chlorine, the light dances on the water, bending through the banded zebra grass or alighting on the shiny chrome of a ladder.
The sun, after enchanting you all day, can be a dangerous thing. It plays tricks on the senses, lulling and deceiving, in conspiracy with the water, as it laps at your skin, seductively calling you to play. Why would you ever refuse? It’s impossible to say no to summer.
