Sun and Llosa

Whenever I’m free, on a Sunday  usually, I often find myself sitting on a wooden bench I painted orange reading a book I had been meaning to read but never found the time under the heat of a 2pm sun. I am beginning to love sunning. I’d apply a generous amount of tanning oil on my chest, back, and thighs, then let the sun do its job. I chug a liter or two of water in the process. I do not leave my place until I feel my dermis has been burned crisp and my shoulders charred dark brown.

But what I love most about it is that I can be alone reading a nice book in my quiet balcony, enjoying the afternoon sun, knowing that it’ll soon kill me, but understanding that we’ll all eventually die anyway. Kidding.

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