As he has noticed many years ago, July is a funny month, for it stands firm as a middle checkpoint of the year that is passing, like when the clock turns midday, slowly tipping the balance to the other side. The days which have gone before, are now only a reminder of the hope they brought with spring, and those that have still yet to come, a warning that all things must end. It is a motionless month, and hot as hell. And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, he had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again and that soon the life he grew accustomed to, shall shift, and quietly, everything will be different.
