Nice weather

When the late summer comes around here, he thought, there is nothing else in the universe but the feel of the foam on the soles of your feet and the scent of the wine in the glass beside your food. There are no stars at night because all you see are the streetlights, the Milky Way shifted from sight in favour of the candlelit tables and striped awnings of restaurants and cafés and casinos and bars. The sky runs into the ocean and the ocean runs into here, horizon curling back on itself and settling around the city and the hills behind like a bubble blown by some drunk uncle, designed to make his nephews laugh. When the late summer comes around here, he thought, I want to be around here too.