With only a month of lessons to go, the academic year is drawing to an end. You can smell the promise of summer in the air. It’s the season of skirts and sunburns, late night laughter and Martinis on the terraces. You can’t escape it.
Yet time seems to have come to a standstill. I’m stuck in the stifling concrete heat when all I want is to take the first train out of town and go gambol in the grass.
Sometimes the more you walk, the further the destination seems to be. Or is it just me?

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