And then there is week end like this one, you would never end,
or repeated ad infinitum.
But, perhaps, is precisely the opposition to the “everyday life” to make them special.

The pleasure of little things.
Eating crunchy bread sitting in the shade of tall pines
on a day in July.
Reading a book while a cat walks alongside
and twists its tail to your ankle recklessly.
Swimming in a pool with the sun that shines above the world.

And doing nothing but relax,
without guilt, without wanting “to do something,”
simply watching the sky and listening to the cicadas while they sing their anthem to summer.

Because, perhaps, is not this, happiness?
That moment when we are together, and we hold hands,
and everything seems in the right place
and we are happy to be there, without thinking about the next desire.