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Summer ended. The leaves changed color; I redirected attention to my plummeting grades. We all moved on, and "Gangnam Style" faded, only resurfacing briefly as a capstone to a tumultuous year. Maybe that was for the best, I decided. Maybe that was a blessing.
It seems most natural to languish in a lit patch of grass and let thoughts travel with clouds, sometimes in a gentle stream and sometimes in a desperate, wind-whipped escape.
