Wakacje

The world has shrunk to rainy streets, sticky fog, and endless full English breakfasts, where even the sun seems to have gone on vacation with no return date. In my head, I have the heat of Africa, the salty air of Mallorca, and the sound of the sea, which drowns out everything else: worries, bills, and longing for normal weather. I just want to burn in the sun, spend every last penny, and dissolve into a party where there are no deadlines, no plans, and no Mondays.

But for now, there are only pubs, bored faces, and a map of the world under my finger. Somewhere out there is a life where you don't have to justify why you're not at the seaside, but still in England. And I can only dream: someday, tickets, a suitcase, and the intoxicating sun will become more real than this endless gray day.