Map - A slow summer like a song that stretches out fucking.

There was no longer really a beginning or an end. ­ Just the heat that clung, the days that merged into one, the light that lasted too long for us to know if it was 6 p.m. or 10 p.m. ­ It was a summer like a song that stretches out, that is forgotten, that comes back, that tightens a little. ­ We were floating in it like a slow dance on the radio of an old car. And it was good. ­ Damn that was good. 📏Format: A6 — like an old Polaroid found 📄 Paper: 300g — soft, matte, sturdy like the choruses we still hum 🖨️ Printing: Front with sweet memories, back with address and stamp space, and space to write what the music doesn't say Give it for: Capturing what slips through your fingers Telling a story without ruining it Saying: "Do you remember?" I couldn't forget.”