I remember knee length washed out gray skirts and lacy pink shirts. And there was Jack Sparrow hair peering out behind wipers keeping time on winding roads. There were sincere eyes and an honesty that I have since tried to find. I remember falling asleep in the woods, waking up wrapped in a blue down comforter sweating under the sun. It was a summer of thick black headbands with pink hearts and long blond hair; I had the blondest hair. There is no way to reproduce the humidity that July.