the wild romantic west

by Rachel Lynch in

Start your howling, its summer here and it's time for a good chase. My limbs are on fire because of the heat and the lingering, exotic possibilities poking at the surface of this place. The sun doesn't run rancid like us, it doesn't burn the same way we do. No, no, when we burn, we do so in an instant. It's like a sudden flash, a whim of passion, a flicker of insight. The sun is eternal and so are our summer souls. Our passions move in and out, up and down, they circle minds and light up when we least expect them to. The flame blows out, the lighter is out of fluid. Without these obstacles, we would never notice the flame igniting in the first place. So better to burn, burn, burn and blow out like the lowest low, then to eternally burn without conscious knowledge of one's own ability to change and transform.

the coming of age, the western love story and eternal heights. you're will to sell anything, gone with your consumed soul. bring a little freedom into your walk on the wild side.

She wasn't one of them, so she left when her mood left. Her feet moved in line with her mind, and her mind was always moving.