About the work
The last popsicle of summer melts down the wrist faster than it can be caught. It belongs to the end of the season, when the air is still heavy with heat and the first leaves start to fall.
The tighter a moment is held, the faster it melts away, until the worry of losing it spoils the very thing worth savoring. Light can’t be kept by gripping harder. It can only melt through the fingers, with the trust that sweetness always returns.
