It was always summer.  

That’s the first thing I remember, every time it comes back inside my head.  The heat and the sun, the green grass, mountains and lakes. An infinite, crushing, maddening sense of directionlessness.  

There are two M83 albums I listened to that summer.  The 2003 album Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts, and Before The Dawn Heals Us, released in 2005.  Every time I hear certain tracks from these albums, I go back to certain places:  lakes, and creek beds, or fields or mountaintops. 

Late nights driving around, doing nothing.  Always with a camera. Straining to create something.

My parents angry, slipping in every barb and jab.

Making up excuses to see Sarah, always waiting for her to give me some sign, some little clue.  

Driving up to Firetower one night with Kit and Hamel and setting some dead wood ablaze.  And sitting there shooting the shit while it burned away.  

Or sharing a joint in a dried up creek bed one afternoon, after having gone swimming, and the sun warming us up and drying away the cold water, and feeling drunk in the sunlight, and letting the marijuana climb inside our heads, until we couldn’t speak without laughing.  

The memory of time not progressing, but standing still for a season, and nothing amounting to very much, and the desire, the ache, the derangement to be somewhere else, to get free. 

To at last get free.

And it was always summer.

That’s the first thing I remember, every time it comes back inside my head.