Summer for me is not a season. It is a feeling. When the body becomes lighter and thoughts — warmer. I noticed that every July and August I begin to return to the same little things. As if my summer has its own script. And every summer — I repeat it with joy.

Walk barefoot.
This is the first thing I do in the village or at the dacha. Even in the city, if there is a park, I find grass and take off my shoes. Feeling the earth is like remembering that you are real.

Apricots for breakfast.
Summer fruits are my personal therapy. I take a basin of cold water, throw fruits in there and eat them from the palm of my hand. Without napkins, without serving. Just juice on your hand - and you laugh.

An hour of silence before sunset.
I turn off my phone, pour myself some mint tea and just watch the sun slide along the windowsill. It's like this hour exhales for me. What do you feel when the day slowly goes away?

The smell of skin after the sun.
Sun lotion, salt, a little sand between your fingers - this scent is better than any perfume. It smells like freedom. And I put on a loose dress, even if I'm just going out for bread.

My summer is in such rituals. Without plans, but with moments. And I put each such moment in my piggy bank of happiness. Then I'll take it out in November - and smile again.