S U M M E R S K I

The day unravelled its early self in a haze of blearily swaying happiness, as the chaotically convivial dinner party that had cranked into action at some point the day before eventually turned into an early morning multiple kneading of limbs; each of us as pruned as the next after a surging gurgling disco light illuminated hot tub beneath the pitch black sky + mesmerizingly taking it in turns to have networks of churning fingers unknotting months of skied-out twisted muscles. "Now this. This is good living!" we blurted out dancing around to our selected favourite songs in the world.

And so, as a result of these late night frivolities, the first lift that we were definitely definitely going to get this morning progressed more so into a feast of slurping litres of coffee on the balcony for several hours, gauging gleaming glares at speeding skating skiers beating the belt of the increasing steaming sun. There was only so much oogling my lazy butt was willing to indulge in before progressing into a grinding churning gurning go of my own on the fast fading cross country tracks; the once glistening diamond studded snow was now deteriorating into a merging of seasons: the muddying bullish promise of a stoic Spring overriding the remainders of the deceasing whimpering Winter. With an element of sadness I lunged my usual diabolical moves across the infinite seeming lanes, slurping my way through the basins of oozing slush listening to thunderously beautiful classic tracks- this one standing out to aptly mark the occasion that would stand to be my final helping of the horizontal terrain, at least on the six footers.