Cutting.
Heat with radiating lines and the sizzling sound that accompanies it, attacks every available surface.
My skin is already starting to become hot to the touch. The intense white sun beats down on the pale skin of my body and I sigh.
I can hear the songs of the birds returned from winter. Their bright songs call to a smile inside me. I can hear the whisper of the leaves on the breeze blowing through the trees. Clank-clank-clank goes the fence as the weeds brush against it with force.















