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Your days are planned down to the minutes, you race from one box on the to-do list to the next and forget to remember you are tired, was it always like this? Summer careens towards its cruel end, it is hotter now than ever but the light is different in the sunsets, people's tan skin taking on the same feel as the leaves: a little exhausted, a little overdone. It feels like minutes since the new green of spring pressed itself through your eyelids and words spilled from your fingertips in gratifying curlicues, how old they are now, how tired.

But I sat in Washington Square Park today, college freshmen outdoor piano playing crazy bird people sweltering fountain romance Washington Square Park, and I knew. There is magic still to be wrung out of this season, there are late nights still to whisper and warm waves still to swim. There's an entire life yet to live though sometimes it dwindles in autumnal ashes, it rises again, and again, and again. You will rise, too.

I'll make sure of it.