The smell of dew settling on grass in the wee hours of the night - the darkest part of night before the dawn sheds some light on the subject - that's the smell that always takes me back to this field.
Sweet sunflower field, it held my childhood dreams and adventures. It was where I hid and sought, where I brought my private thoughts and public tantrums. A few years later, it was where I brought the boys who claimed to love me, and we'd make love under these white stars and yellow petals and for a few hours, at least, I could believe them.
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