Summer is difficult.
It's beautiful, warm, rainy,
absolutely lovely.

It's so difficult to deal with it.
I want to go fishing, go swimming, go running barefoot;
I want to do all those
summery things.

All the things I used to be able to do.
If only I still could.

Tough luck, dearie.

I just have to make do.
I can write.
I can sketch.
So that's what I do.

And the summer keeps being lovely.

I listen to the rain dancing
on the roof.
I see the sun paint the sky
in all those absolutely magnificent colours
as the sun sets and rises.

The summer keeps on being lovely.