Youth is in a grand flush like the hot days of ending summer and pleasant dreams thrall your spirit like the smoky atmosphere that bathes the landscape of an August day.
My mom used to tell me stories at night read books to me - and I read 'em over and over and over again. And you know what I learned from that? I went back and looked at everything - Why do I like reading the same stories over and over and over again? What was I some kind of nincompoop? No - the narrative gave me connection with my mom.